


Sevenfold

by tragicbeasts



Series: The Kreisau Initiative [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, Gore, Harm to Children, Human Experimentation, Injury, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 39,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26314654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragicbeasts/pseuds/tragicbeasts
Summary: Walker takes the position as the Avenger's new handler. All he has to do is survive.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Male Character(s), Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: The Kreisau Initiative [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912006
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Let There Be Light

Talking with Nick Fury was like flipping a two-tailed coin: you were getting the ass end of the deal either way. So, he wasn’t surprised when a brief phone conversation turned into the worst flight he’d ever experienced to a foreign city he’d never been to. Stumbling off the plane and into the terminal, he himself felt like he had a terminal case of something. Less than steady and trying not to share his lunch with his fellow travelers, he veered towards the bathroom. He crouched in a stall until he was sure nothing was going to come up. Too dehydrated to do much else, he just washed his hands and left feeling only marginally better. 

He passed the baggage claim, only lugging his backpack full of the few items he owned, and almost immediately regretted the transcontinental journey. There, standing in the lobby was a terrified man holding a sign that read “Welcome to New York, a**hole.” The script was a beautiful cursive. He could only assume it was meant for him.  
The man entered an advanced stage of fear as Walker approached him, though the man put on a brave face. 

“Walker?” the man asked.

“Mm.”

“Follow me then.” 

The man deftly flipped and clutched the sign to his side before turning towards the exit. Walker followed, slightly more cheerful given that Fury himself wasn’t there to pick him up. He didn’t know what he’d do if it were him holding that sign. 

The man led him to a sleek car in the standard black and opened the back door. Walker slid onto the leather seat, which was worlds better than the cramped confines of the airplane. The man got into the passenger’s seat and the driver took off as soon as the door shut. 

“Appreciate the welcome,” Walker said, receiving two grunts in return. Social duties complete, he settled into the seat and closed his eyes. First time in New York City, he should probably be hanging out the window, hair blowing in the breeze, soaking in the sights. But he was goddamn tired. That phone call had jolted him awake just after midnight, with the full expectation that someone was either dead or a whole lot of people were going to be dying. Instead, it was the gruff voice of a healthy, very much alive friend who had an important question.

“How are your leadership skills?”

He tries to be a polite man. It’s fun to shock people who don’t expect that. But it was way too early for that nonsense, so he’ll admit his response was, “Fucking why?”

“Good, bad, okay?” Fury continued, seeming…frazzled, which caught his attention. 

“I’ve been leading people since I was 10. I’ve won a civil war. I loosely run a team of mercenaries on a fairly regular basis. You know all of this.”

There wasn’t much of a pause. “Would you be willing to do me a favor?” Now that is not something Nick Fury says lightly. 

“What do you need?”

“Can you come to New York City? As soon as possible?”

“That’s it?”

“For an interview.”

“An interview…”

The silence stretched like a cat after a nap. 

“The Avengers have burned through all their handlers, and I’m just about at the end of my rope.”

“Sounds like an interesting problem.”

“That is one word for it.” 

Well, that made him sit and consider. He was always one for a challenge. 

“What do I have to do?”

“Fly to the city. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

Well, here he was.


	2. The Interview

The things he had heard about New York City traffic were not exaggerated, and he actually fell asleep during the long drive. He was face down and snoring when they arrived and shook him awake. He peered out the window, bleary eyed, at an obscenely large building. He had to get out of the car to fully see what he considered a monstrosity, topped with an “A”, in case anyone forgot who lived there. 

He was escorted through the shiny doors to the guard station, where they asked for and examined his identification. Which was fake, but they didn’t need to know that information. It at least had his real photo. As they looked it over and checked their records, he gazed around at all the marble, glass, and steel, suddenly feeling very far from any place he might call home. 

“Your presence is required on Floor 16,” the guard said, handing back his passport. 

_ Required _ . He stared at the guard for a moment, then grunted and stalked to the elevator. He didn’t like being  _ required. _

Floor 16 appeared to be a series of rooms that all looked the same, so he approached the secretary’s desk to ask for guidance. Before he even opened his mouth, she pointed to the third door and said, “They just went in. They’re expecting you.” 

“Thanks,” he said, a bit unnerved. Who were  _ they _ ?

“Oh, fuck,” he said, before the door was even shut behind him.  _ They _ were all the Avengers, plus Nick Fury.

“Good to see you too,” Fury said, not quite smiling, but implying that he might if he wanted to. 

“You said  _ we _ were going to talk,” Walker hissed, way too exhausted to deal with whatever this was. “You and me.”

“Yeah, well…” Fury said, glancing at the large blonde – possibly the Captain – and shrugging, “They caught wind of it and wanted to introduce themselves.”

Walker sighed and set his backpack next to the closest chair, collapsing into it. 

“Fine, let’s start with names.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. 

“You don’t know our names?” said a dark-haired man. 

Walker just stared at him. The end of his rope was approaching.

“I’m Steve!” said the large blonde, confirming Walker’s guess with a smile. They went around in a circle from there.

“Natasha…Clint…Tony Stark, obviously…Wanda…Sam…”

The last man cocked his head and examined Walker in a way that made him uncomfortable, though he didn’t let that show. His left arm appeared to have some sort of metal plating over it, or the whole thing was made of metal. His hair was long, though not quite as long as Walker’s, and hung half covering the blue grey of his eyes. With a voice of smoke and honey, he said: 

“Barnes.”

*******

“So, where were you born?”

“No.”

“Um…” Steve stared at him, then glanced down at the list of questions and back up.

“You may ask questions about my life as an adult.” 

“That’s not fair,” said Tony, leaning forward.

“Tough shit,” Walker retorted, folding his arms across his chest and crossing his ankles. 

“Why?” asked Natasha, narrowing her gaze. 

“Because I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That bad?” Barnes interjected.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Walker repeated, a hair snappier. 

“Okay, well, how about qualifications?” Steve said, looking at him hopefully.

“I run a loose mercenary squad that operates within Africa and the Middle East, mostly. From the time I was 19 to 23 I led a civil war and won. I’ve spent most of my life leading others. It’s not that hard.”

“Really? You might be surprised,” Tony said with an unpleasant smirk. This expression was echoed in a few of the other faces before him, and he sighed again. 

“I doubt it,” Walker replied. “Very little surprises me anymore.”

“Did you know that radioactive scorpions have two stingers?” Clint interjected, leaning forward a bit. His eyes lit up with a memory Walker was glad he didn’t share.

“I do now,” he said slowly. Clint tilted his head and Walker sighed. “Point taken.”

“Why do you want this job?” Wanda asked quietly.

Walker had to think about that. “It’s different,” he said at last. “I’m tired of the politics and the backstabbing and the….” He waved his hands, “All that. It’s messy and it wears on what little I have left of my soul.”

“And what happens when you get tired of this?” Barnes asked, eyes intense.

“Something tells me it doesn’t get tiresome here, just tiring,” Walker responded, having already observed the diversity of what little of their personalities he had become privy to. The people they were, the lives they lead, the threats they faced – he’d never be bored again.

“You would be right about that!” Tony said, then slapped his hands on the table. “Welcome to the team!”

“TONY!” yelled the others, but Nick Fury nodded, and the deal was done.


	3. Basement Dweller

There was a whole suite on one of the upper levels set aside for him. Or rather, set aside for their most recent chew toy. All glass and granite. Cold as both. The empty feeling in the air made him uneasy as Tony rambled on about the amenities, waving his hands and highlighting the television (massive), kitchen (sleek), view of the city (sobering), and California king bed (excessive). Walker nodded and let out a “hm” at the right times, played it well enough that by the end of it, Tony was grinning and making a move to slap him on the back. 

Walker slid just out of reach, under the guise of getting a closer look at the entertainment system. Tony understood the urge, however faked, and launched into another rant about every feature. He did it with such enthusiasm and affected good cheer that Walker could see the trap as it was being laid. It was subtle, a welcoming face, a beautiful living space, and the assurance of an invigorating job. He wasn’t exactly sure what the catch was, but he could smell the steel.

He pretended to be impressed, pretended to care about the answers to the questions he asked. He could feel the eyes of the rest of the team, all trained on him as he drifted through the open space. They reminded him of wolves held back by the light of a dying fire. 

Finally, the tour was over, the proper thanks were given, and the front door was closed behind Sam as he made up the last car of a deadly train. Walker inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Suddenly, the space expanded and made his next inhale more difficult than it should have been. It was too big, too shiny. He wanted to go home.

But where was home? That village in Sierra Leone? That shack in Nigeria? The compound in the Congo? Bosnia, in that long-buried wreckage?

He sat down, hard, on the polished wood floor and stared at the grey chips in the otherwise black granite countertops. Stared at the whorls in the wood below him. Started at the sunlight streaming through the windowpanes and enveloping the sofa in a halo of light. Home might as well be here. 

But it didn’t necessarily have to be  _ here _ .

He checked out the bathroom and was suitably impressed by the outlandish showering arrangement – three shower heads in a spacious tile enclosure – and a vanity. At least the toilet was normal. Leaving the bathroom, he eyed the bedroom for a mere second before rejecting it and tossing his bag onto the living room couch. This apartment did not work for him. 

Having been introduced to the computer that ran the building, Walker tilted his head up and asked, “Miss Friday?” 

“Yes, Boss?” 

That title stalled him for a second before he inquired, “Where am I allowed to go in this building?”

“Anywhere,” she replied. 

Another false sense of power and security.

“Could you show me a map of the building?” he asked and startled when one of the walls suddenly displayed a projection of the entire tower.

“Floors 40 and above are all private quarters,” Friday said. “30-40 are office and administration; 20-30 are research and development for Mr. Stark’s company; 10-20 are training areas; and the first 10 floors are where the SHIELD agents live.” 

“Is there a roof?” he asked, “Or a basement? Some unused office?” 

“As with most buildings, there is a roof,” she sassed, and Walker relaxed a little with a chuckle. 

“Fair point.”

“The basement is for storage purposes only and we are at full capacity with our office spaces,” she informed him. He cocked his head.

“But can I go to the basement?” he asked. There was a delay in her response.

“May I ask why?” she asked, artificial voice hesitant.

“I’m curious,” he said, not entirely willing to vent about his feelings to Stark’s AI. 

“You have been granted access to all parts of the building,” she repeated, cautiously. 

“Thank you,” he said, heading for the elevator. There wasn’t even a button for the basement, he had to go to the ground floor and find the staircase that brought him below. Both the elevator and the stairs were blissfully empty, and Walker could feel the tension in his neck starting to loosen. 

The basement smelled as expected and looked about the same. Bare concrete and chain link fencing, unfinished ceilings revealing metal pipes and duct work. Valves, cobwebs, dust, and cardboard boxes. It was perfect.

He spent the next hour seeking out the ideal location and found it just when he thought he was screwed again. There was a sort of cement ledge, tucked in a corner and protected, however minimally, by the fencing. Walker used the filing cabinets and boxes strewn about the area to construct makeshift stairs, climbing onto the ledge. It had just enough room that he could sit hunched over. Plenty of room for his bedroll. 

Having made that decision, he snuck his way back to his floor. He strongly preferred if no one were to witness him smuggle a pillow, his pack, and a wet rag down to the basement. Luckily, the only people in the elevator were obviously used to a lot of weird, and they didn’t look at him twice. Once he got back, he cleaned off the ledge and the pipes as best he could, not that he minded a little grime. Then he set up his sleeping area, the pristine down pillow at odds with the patched, faded sleeping bag. It made him smile a little. He was moving up in the world.


	4. Eyes in the Sky

By the time he was done, his stomach was demanding attention. Miss Friday wasn’t wired down here, so he emerged from his new hiding spot to find food. The guard at the entrance gave him a side glance, but Walker just nodded in greeting and headed for the elevator once more. Inside, he looked up and asked, “Miss Friday, where can I get something to eat?”

She replied sounding bemused by his adventures, “Floor 5, Boss.” 

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, and there was a brief pause.

“You don’t have to say that, Boss,” she said, amusement in her tone. 

“Yes, I do,” he disagreed, leaning against the handrail as the elevator rocketed him to the fifth floor. She made no further comment before the doors opened and spilled him into the busiest floor he had been on so far. People he assumed were SHIELD agents were walking in all directions, always at a brisk clip, always wearing black. Everyone had their serious face on, and some carried important looking folders. Everyone had a gun, but some also carried more impressive weaponry, to his surprise. He figured they were headed to a firing range or armory, but he still found comfort in the militaristic feel of the area. In his boots, black cargo pants, and grey t-shirt, he fit right in. Not like when he walked through a city or village and felt like an invader. It was a nice change. 

No one looked at him as he made his way to the door marked “Cafeteria.” He took comfort in that as well. The cafeteria actually smelled good, which was a positive sign. He headed for the start of the buffet and grabbed a tray, then served himself a little bit of everything. He was hungry and curious, and as someone who had learned to never turn away food, this was a dream. He looked around for a place to pay and saw none. It must be part of the deal. So, he glanced around for a place to sit and met an intense gaze. 

Barnes, Steve, and Sam were lounging at a table by the window. One seat was open, and Barnes motioned to it. Walker was apprehensive but couldn’t refuse the offer. He walked over and set his tray down, eyeing the neutral expressions on their faces. He sat and paused, in case of conversation, then dug in after a moment of silence. They didn’t say a word, just watched him eat, which should’ve bothered him more than it did. When he finished, Sam let out a low whistle.

“Guess you were hungry,” he said. Walker shrugged.

“Haven’t eaten since…” He tried to calculate, but quickly gave up. “A while ago.” 

“Since the Congo?” Steve asked, casual tone tinged with curiosity.

“Yeah,” Walker said. It was a good meal too. The villager who had brought them dinner was a hell of a cook.

“What were you doing there?” asked Barnes, gently tapping his fork on the plate. 

“Delivering medical supplies,” Walker answered. 

Steve’s eyebrows raised. “I thought you were a mercenary?”

Walker shrugged. “They desperately needed the supplies, but we were the only ones willing to go into the war zone.” 

“That’s brave,” Steve said. 

Walker huffed. “War doesn’t scare me. I was raised in it.”

“Which one?” Sam asked casually, but Walker just glared. The silence thickened. 

Barnes looked at the clock. “Time for practice.” He glanced at Walker. “You’re welcome to join.”

“I’ll join in a bit,” Walker said.

Steve stood up. “We’re there for about 2 hours, so you should catch us.”

“Sounds good,” Walker said, picking up his tray. He brought it to the disposal area and set it atop the others. 

“It’s the floor below this one, by the way,” Barnes drawled right behind him, and he was proud that he didn’t jump out of the skin. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem, sweetheart.”

Walker’s brain almost broke. He froze a moment before shaking his head and heading for the exit. He could hear Barnes chuckling behind him, then a smack as someone slapped his shoulder. He sighed internally, which had become a defining characteristic of the day. At least he said sweetheart.

*******

Walker made his way down to the fourth floor, as directed. It was packed with agents moving in packs between rooms marked “Training A”, “Training B”, and so on. He almost went into A when he saw a door unmarked except for a bumper sticker that said:

_ You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry! _

Pushing through the door, he was met with an impressive sight. There were bodies flying and flipping all over the mats, battling both training robots and holograms. They were in full gear, Steve with his shield, Sam with his wings, and Clint with his bow. Wanda watched from the sidelines with a bag of popcorn and Walker headed her way, keeping a careful eye on the action to avoid accidental (or not) injury. She greeted him with a small smile and offered some of her food. He was surprised by the gesture and accepted a few kernels. 

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” She studied him. “Your name really is Walker?” 

He shrugged. “It’s as good a name as any.” 

She tilted her head and hummed. “So not the name your mother gave you.”

“The name my mother gave me is the last word she said, and the last time it’ll be said,” he stated, with more force than was probably necessary. Her expression softened into one of compassion, without a trace of pity.

“I understand,” she said, and for once, he believed that response.

“I’m sorry for your losses, as well,” he said, and she gave a dark chuckle.

“That obvious?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“Scars don’t need a physical form to be visible,” he said, and she tensed and looked away. He did not push any further, turning to watch the team engage in a pantomime of the deadliest dance. 

“Where did it come from?” she asked, rejoining the present. “Walker?”

“It’s short for a nickname,” he said plainly, but offered no elaboration. 

“Why do you not join them?” he said, changing the subject. Wanda grimaced.

“I’d only break everything.” 

“What can you do, exactly?” he questioned. She pointed at a nearby chair, which suddenly launched itself at the ceiling before falling to the ground, only to appear to be caught by an invisible net. Walker was admittedly impressed. “Can you do that to people?”

“….people?” she repeated with slight concern. 

“Could you lift me to that perch over there?” he asked, pointing at the outcropping across the room. He surmised it was for sniper training. 

“I could…” She was hesitant, but apparently his visible excitement allayed some of her fears, and she lifted her hand again. He went soaring through the air and landed perfectly on the perch, ass planted securely and legs dangling in space. It was an interesting view, watching the fighting from below. Sam was quick as his moniker, Steve was a solid force of nature, Natasha danced like a serpent, and Barnes moved like a tank. Tony was doing aerial acrobatics, twisting around Sam, and Clint was shooting suction cup arrows from another perch across the room. It was fascinating to watch, the sheer amount of grace and skill below and across from him. He couldn’t believe he was supposed to harness all that energy and make it behave. 

He sat up there and observed for a while, saw that Steve relied heavily on the shield and that Clint went for the difficult targets first. Barnes tended to favor covering Steve rather than optimizing his targets, and Tony was a bit too cautious with his shots. There was work to do.

Finally, an alarm went off and everything came to a halt. Sweating and the slightest bit out of breath, they looked around at each other. Wanda and Walker began clapping, prompting their heads to whip in his direction. 

“When did you get here?” Tony demanded, embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed. 

“Hour ago,” Walker said. He looked at Wanda. “Catch me?”

“Wait!” But he had already jumped. His knees barely bent upon landing. It was like moving through gelatin, the way her powers slowed his descent to the floor. 

“Cool,” he said. It almost felt like he had superpowers himself. 

“So, you  _ are _ crazy,” said Sam, appearing to have momentarily overcome a burst of nerves.

“Guess I fit right in,” Walker countered. 

Wanda murmured, “You’re not wrong.”

There was a  _ humph _ from Barnes. “I take offense to that.” 

“Take it all you want,” Walker said, and Barnes grinned.

“Appreciate the offer, baby doll.”

_ Goddammit.  _

After a brief moment, Steve cleared his throat and said, “How about we hit the showers?”

They began to disperse, then Barnes turned.

“You’re welcome to join, sweetheart,” he purred. “Stall’s got room for two.”

“Yeah,” Walker replied. “You and your ego.”

That got a smile out of Barnes that almost knocked Walker over. _ Good Lord _ . Barnes turned back and headed into the locker rooms and Walker took a steadying breath. Wanda had a hand over her mouth when he turned to ask where they would be going next and started giggling when he met her eye. 

“What?” he asked with a heavy exhale. 

“Your face,” she said between snickers, “was priceless.”

“Damn right it is,” he said. Priceless and ugly as sin. A scar from eyebrow to collarbone was interrupted by one from cheekbone to temple. Two white lines from lips split through and through. Crescent carved into his other temple. Slashes along the lines of his throat. A bombshell in the sense of the damage done upon detonation. 

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” she suggested, breaking his reverie. He followed her into the elevator and up to one of the Avengers floors. The space looked like the one on his floor, except lived in. Sweatshirts draped haphazardly on the three couches crammed in a rough arch around the television. Weapons left half cleaned on tables, shoes in unlikely places, and dishes stacked on the bookcase. 

“ _ Men _ ,” he muttered, and grabbed the dishes as he walked by. After washing those, he collected the shoes by the door and laid the clothing neatly over the backs of the couches. He didn’t touch the weapons though. You don’t fuck with other people’s gear. 

Wanda, who was entertained by watching him, entered the kitchen and put on a kettle. 

“Would you like some tea?” she asked, and he nodded. He could use something to calm his nerves. They were sitting at the bar, each holding a steaming mug, when the rest of the team came traipsing in. 

“What the hell?” said Tony, eyeing the living room.

“You cleaned?” Natasha asked him, tone betraying her surprise.

“Is that a problem?” he challenged, starting to get worn out from the long day.

“Not a problem at all, angel,” Barnes soothed, which was even more unnerving. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, darling,” Walker replied, sipping his tea. Barnes blinked; mouth open slightly. Wanda grinned into her cup and Steve coughed to hide a laugh. 

“What’s for dinner?” Clint asked loudly, and Sam seconded that question. 

“Definitely pizza,” Tony said. “Or Indian? There’s a good Vietnamese place too…”

“Indian!” Natasha declared, and it was settled. 

Walker had never had Indian food before, in all his travels, and was tentative to ask for recommendations. He had a feeling he’d probably end up with the spiciest dish on the menu. So, he went with what appeared to be a mild option, which caught flak from the others, but he wasn’t taking any chances quite yet. 

The conversation that unfolded was mostly bickering between Tony, Steve, and Barnes, with the others watching like it was their favorite television program. Walker sussed out that Barnes and Steve were the oldest of friends, and that Steve and Tony clashed on some things, while Barnes and Tony clashed on others. Natasha and Clint sat close enough together that he was beginning to suspect something more than a teammate relationship, and Sam kept sneaking warm glances at the bulky blonde, which was interesting. Wanda was by far the quietest, and he appreciated her company at his side. Then the conversation shifted, and suddenly Barnes was staring at him again.

“So, what do you like to do for fun?” he asked, leaning forward.

Walker paused and thought. “Nothing legal.”

Steve pursed his lips and Barnes backhanded his bicep. “Fine, what illegal things do you do for fun.”

Walker stared at him and then shrugged, “Screw, shoot things, set other things on fire, you know.”

“Wait, why…” Barnes started, but the question was cut off by the ring of Tony’s cell phone alerting the group to the arrival of their food. Walker managed to avoid any further questions for the rest of the meal, and the argument over some movie that ensued afterwards. But Barnes kept shooting him sideways glances throughout the evening, and he knew he was still a bug under his microscope. No matter how hard he wriggled, there would be no escaping. So, he played dead, saying nothing and providing little opening for the conversation to naturally flow to him. It worked, and he made it to the end of the meal undisturbed. 

Apparently, the tradition was a movie after supper, but Walker begged out, citing the transcontinental flight and early wake up. 

“Sweet dreams, honey,” Barnes said. Steve rolled his eyes.

“They will be if you’re in them, babe.”

He left to one yelp and six howls of laughter. He turned to glance behind him. Barnes' face was stoic by the time he looked, but there was a begrudging humor in his eyes. Walker winked and Barnes flared his nostrils. 

Walker hummed his own elevator music on the way down to the basement, where he collected a fresh set of clothes and toiletries. Heading back up, he found the team showers on the fourth floor and grabbed one of the towels folded on a shelf. He scrubbed from head to toe, removing layers of grime and blood. He wasn’t sure the last time he had showered. 

Drying off, he donned his clean clothes and wrapped his hair in the towel. He let it dry some while he brushed his teeth and smoothed lotion over his face, then unwound it and let it fall down his back. With the comb, he worked out the knots, adding oil when necessary, until it was all smooth and silky. Then he braided it tight, tying it off with the old strip of leather he’d been using for years. Hanging from either end were the remains of two bullets that hadn’t killed him. Served as part brag, part reminder.

Cleansed of his most recent sins, he returned to his hole in the wall and curled up in the bedroll. In barely five breaths, he was out.

*******

Barnes was in a whole world of trouble. This Walker was nothing like the other stiff military men that had been foisted upon the Avengers. They had all but crumbled at the first “sweetie”, but Walker, though he had been surprised at first, seemed to almost enjoy it. Which, combined with that comment about illegal fun…

_ He’s gay. _

“Huh,” Barnes said out loud, earning a glare from Natasha. He was interrupting one of her favorite movies. He had no idea what was going on.

This introduced a whole new piece to the playing field. His new commander was hot, gay, and had at least some semblance of a sense of humor. This was the best kind of problem, but Barnes was definitely screwed. 

_ Maybe… _

“Literally no,” said Sam, staring at the screen. “That wouldn’t happen.” 

Barnes did not appreciate the misdirected reminder. He settled back into the couch and tried to pay attention.


	5. Kung Fu Fighting

He woke up in an unfamiliar place with a jolt. He was in his bed, but what were these pipes and boxes? Why was the air cold and musty? 

_ New York. _

It came to him after a moment of panic and he slumped back down, breathing heavily. He checked his watch and the glow reported that it was 4 am. Eastern Standard Time. 

He slid out of his space with a groan, hauling on his boots and tightening the frayed laces. He grabbed his bag and headed for the fourth floor. He wanted to have a go in the Avengers gym. 

The night guard gave him a wave and Miss Friday wished him a good morning when he got into the elevator, which he returned. Both the elevator and his destination were empty, and he reveled in the quiet. Once inside, he set his bag on the floor and surveyed the room.

Mats, punching bags, sparring dummies, and a lot of unidentifiable equipment. He took off his boots and headed for the mats. Stretching limbered him up and shook the dust from his brain, and he headed for the red punching bag. Squaring up, he took one swing after the other, dancing and pivoting like the bag were alive. His muscles turned to liquid as he found his rhythm and he found satisfaction in the  _ thump, thump _ of bare knuckles, bare heels on leather. He lost track of time, finding peace in the movement. 

Until he felt eyes on the back of his neck. 

He spun around, keeping in time with his motions, and met the curious gaze of his new verbal sparring partner. He glanced at his watch.

_ 5 am. _

“You’re up early,” he said. 

Barnes snorted. “I don’t sleep.” 

Walker filed that away. 

“Any pointers?” he asked, jerking his head at the still gently swaying punching bag. 

Barnes shook his head. “You know what you’re doing with your hands, but I wonder about your footwork.”

Walker glanced down. “What about it?” 

“You’re fast and smooth with the bag, but does it translate?” Barnes asked, tilting his head to the boxing ring. 

“You want to spar?” he said, surprised.

“I’m curious,” Barnes said, then jogged over to the spot he had indicated. 

“You’re also wearing pajamas,” Walker observed, calculating all the ways this could go wrong. 

“You’re not,” Barnes added, waving his hands to indicate he cared little about either of their choices in attire. Walker walked hesitantly, eyes on Barnes. He didn’t seem to mind the attention. He was 10 steps away when he saw the gleam in his eyes and had only that moment of warning before Barnes rushed him, arms open and low to the ground. Without thinking, Walker went airborne, flipping and landing behind his thwarted tackler, who spun around on the balls of his feet and narrowed his eyes.

“Hm,” was all he said before standing and assuming a more traditional fighting stance. Walker shook his head as he got into his own stance. The fight was breathtakingly fast paced and brutal, fists missing by a hair and knees grazing ribs. Neither could truly touch the other, though, and as the fight progressed Walker could tell Barnes was getting intrigued. They kept going, rolling, flipping, swinging, and sliding all over the mats until Walker set up a kick, only to realize he would break Barnes’ arm if he did. Pulling that kick cost him the ability to block a punch from the metal arm, which connected with his left shoulder with a loud  _ smack _ . His shoulder popped out of place and he stumbled. Barnes froze immediately, then went ramrod straight and took a step back, hands held up. 

“It’s fine,” Walker said through grit teeth. “My bad.”

“Your bad…” Barnes said, voice flat. He shook his head. “Dislocated?”

“Yes,” Walker said. “Can I borrow your shoulder?”

Barnes nodded and let Walker brace his misaligned shoulder against the solid metal one. With a deep breath and a twist of his upper body, it was snapped back into place with a flash of pain that made him grimace. He stood there for a moment to catch his breath, then stepped backwards. 

“Thanks.”

“Sorry,” Barnes replied, looking guilty. 

“I almost hurt you,” Walker told him, and for some reason that baffled Barnes. 

“Oh shit!” Tony’s voice echoed in the quiet room. “I thought I was the only poor fucker awake.”

“You’re the least poor fucker I know,” countered Walker, relieved at the opportunity to end the staring contest that had developed. 

“Touché, Boss,” Tony said, pointing finger guns at him. 

Walker glanced between the two. “I’m going to shower.” He grabbed his bag and headed to the locker rooms, the murmurs of a conversation following in his wake. 

His routine was simple, but calmed him down, and by the time Barnes barged in the wash up, Walker was combing out his hair. Barnes screeched to a halt and stood, seeming uncertain, until Walker jerked his head at the showers.

“All yours.”

Barnes cleared his throat and walked past, and the sound of water followed soon after. Walker finished combing and braided the thick sheet of black strands before heading back to his basement domain. It was time to make a call.

*******

Very, very, very screwed.

That fight had been one of the most intense of Barnes’ albeit shaky memory, until he broke the man.  _ My bad. _ He couldn’t believe it. The man had matched him blow for blow, flowing like water around him and just past his reach. It was thrilling to engage with someone that skilled after being the best for so long. Fighting Natasha was different. Her style was unique, relying less on brute force and more on acrobatics and scorpion-like strikes. But Walker would have kicked his ass if he had stumbled. Instead, he dislocated his shoulder to avoid breaking Barnes’ arm, for some reason.

He was sitting in Tony’s lab, with Tony digging around in his arm installing a new upgrade. This used to bother him to no end, reminding him way too much of his Hydra days, but Tony had made an effort to make the lab seem as little lab-like as possible. Music posters, hologram writing boards, and blueprints hung from the walls, with bean bag chairs and the occasional ironic stuffed animal strategically strewn about the floor. The lighting was soft and there was always some rock album playing in the background. It was one of Barnes’ favorite places to spend time, though he’d never let Tony know that.

_ And that hair… _

Barnes was turning into a fucking schoolboy and it disturbed the hell out of him. Developing a crush on a man he knew just about nothing about. An incredibly pretty man with hair he wanted to run his fingers through and a mouth he’d like to…

“Fuck!” Tony yelled, shaking his hand after getting zapped. He soon had the new circuit soldered into place. 

As Barnes was standing and thanking Tony, Friday announced, “Boss would like to see you in the conference room.”


	6. Twenty Questions

Walker was trying to figure out how to connect his phone to the complicated technical system in the conference room when the Avengers started to trickle in. Tony quickly jumped in to set it up, and soon Raoul’s face was projected onto the screen.

“Can you hear me?” Walker asked. 

“Yes, sir,” Raoul responded with a grin. 

Walker propped the phone up on its side and tried to center it on the Avengers, who looked moderately confused. 

“Can you see them?” Walker inquired, and Raoul gave a thumbs up. “Yes, sir!”

Waiting for Clint and Sam to arrive, Walker asked in Congolese:  _ How is the mission going? _

“ _ Difficult, sir,”  _ Raoul replied, smile slipping a little. “ _ There are so many deaths.” _

“ _ Any of ours?” _ Walker asked, fearful, but Raoul shook his head. 

“ _ Not yet. _ ” 

Both knew it was only a matter of time. 

_ “Let me know if you need anything,”  _ Walker said as the last stragglers took their seats. Raoul’s smile was reinvigorated.

“ _ I know you’ll take care of us, sir.”  _ Walker’s heart clenched.

“Good morning,” Walker said, looking around at the assembly. Some were more alert than others, particularly Clint, who looked about ready to go back to bed. Natasha was examining him intently and Barnes was glancing between him and Raoul, brow furrowed.

“Good morning,” Steve replied, the only one. Sam added his greeting a beat later. 

“Since I know you don’t trust me, partly because I’m not willing to talk about certain parts of my past, I figured I’d meet you halfway and introduce you to someone who  _ will _ talk about those things.” Walker gestured to the screen. “This is Raoul, my second in command. He will answer any questions you have about me, within reason.” 

“Second in command of what?” Steve asked, and Walker responded, “Everything.”

“We are in a sexless marriage,” Raoul said with a laugh. Walker already missed hearing that laugh in person. They hadn’t been separated often in the 18 years they had been friends and it was always hard to be apart. You get used to a particular body always being around.

“Huh,” said Tony, glancing at Walker, who just nodded in agreement. 

“I will leave you to it, then,” Walker said in the pause that followed. He headed for the exit and walked to the next-door conference room.

“Miss Friday, could you replicate the other conference room? Audio and visuals?” he requested, and she obliged. 

He sat back, waiting for the onslaught, steeling his nerves. This wasn’t going to be fun.

******

Steve glanced at Barnes when the door shut behind Walker. “Does that mean we’re hitched too?”

“Forever and always, babe,” Barnes responded with a wink. Tony pretended to puke, choked on spit, then almost actually puked. 

Raoul observed them for a moment, then said, “Sir is going to enjoy you.”

“He’s always welcome to,” Barnes purred. Steve kicked him under the table.

“You think you will get him with a school yard innuendo?” Raoul said, shaking his head. “That ride is for grown men only.” That woke Clint up and Sam stopped drumming his fingers on the table.

“Wait, what?” Tony said, leaning forward. “He likes men?”

Raoul stared at them for an uncomfortably long amount of time before saying, slowly, “This is not an issue, correct?”

“Of course not!” Steve hurriedly assured. The rest of the Avengers echoed this sentiment. 

“Good,” Raoul said, then waited.

“Where was he born?” Sam asked, as Tony opened his mouth.

“Bosnia, or what is Bosnia today.”

Clint jumped in, “Then why did he come from Africa?”

“He moved to live with his aunt and her family once his family died. They lived in the Congo. He’s been there ever since.”

“Lived?” Natasha asked. “Past tense?”   
“They are dead now,” Raoul told them. “Murdered.”

“When?” Steve inquired. 

“When he was 9.”

“Jesus,” Barnes muttered. 

“Who took care of him after that?” Wanda asked, face showing concern. She must like him, Barnes thought.

“I tried my best, after we met, but he did a better job of caring for me than I did caring for him,” Raoul admitted. 

“You lived in a refugee camp together?” Bruce asked, but Raoul shook his head.

“We were taken by a local warlord and made into soldiers. We lived at his compound with the others.” 

“I thought you said you were only 9 or 10?” Steve said, and Natasha gave him a pitying look.

“He was a child soldier, Steve.”

“What does that even mean, though?” Steve questioned, unable to comprehend.

“They gave us guns and told us to kill our loved ones, or they’d kill us. Since Walker had no family, he went with me so I didn’t have to do it. He always protects me, even when I don’t really deserve it.” Raoul got lost in a memory before coming back to the present. “We kept order in the local villages, collected taxes, got rid of rivals. Police, judge, jury, and executioner. Not that there was much justice to it.”

“How long?” Wanda asked, visibly upset.

“Walker snapped when we were 19,” Raoul said. “Killed our warlord, his commanders, just about anyone he got his hands on. We’ve been on our own ever since.”

“At least you had each other,” Wanda said, a cloud passing over her expression.

“That’s the only reason I’m here,” Raoul attested. 

“You became mercenaries afterwards?” Steve asked, fists remaining clenched under the table. 

“Yes, we roamed Central and West Africa and offered our services. We weren’t terribly picky.” Raoul chuckled. “Apparently still aren’t.”

Barnes sniffed. “We’re not just any rabble,” he said. “We’re  _ high class _ rabble.”

“You must be Barnes,” Raoul said, grinning. Barnes tensed. 

“What of it?”

“Relax,” Raoul replied, tone soothing. “It’s just amusing how accurate his description was.”

“Aw,” Barnes drawled. “Did he tell you how pretty I am?”

Raoul chuckled. “That wasn’t one of the words he used.” 

“I believe the words were aggressive, obnoxious, and lethal,” Walker said from the now open doorway. His face was neutral, but his fists were squeezed so hard his knuckles were pale and the tendons in his neck were visible. 

“Done, sir?” asked Raoul. Walker nodded and held the door open for the Avengers to leave. Each of them glanced at him as they walked past to integrate the new information with their image of the man. Barnes had the powerful urge to rub circles on his back, like a mother with a sick child, and it took a lot of self-control to walk by with only a brief flash of eye contact. It was then that he noticed Walker had flecks of gold in the amber and chocolate of his eyes.  _ Pretty bastard. _

The conference room door was slammed behind them and they stood in the lobby, exchanging looks. 

“Lunch?” Tony suggested, and everyone headed to the shared floor kitchen. Something delicious was cooked and consumed, but all Barnes could think of was the sensation of Walker’s body braced against his own, heel to shoulder. Granted, poor circumstances, but he could feel the solidness of Walker through the pressure plates in his arm and it  _ did things _ to him. He was building up to having a serious problem.

As if he needed another one.

*******

They didn’t say anything for a solid five minutes, just breathing in each other’s presence. 

“There’s an ocean between us, Raoul,” Walker said, the corners of his eyes hinting at tears. “I am too far from home.”

“You have always been good at making homes,” Raoul reminded him. “Give it time.”

“They are waiting for me to leave, like the others,” Walker said. “Their kindness will only last until they realize I plan to stay.”

“Then they will suffer under your tyrannical rule and be better off for it,” responded Raoul, earning a snort from Walker.

“Imagine, being asked to do exactly what you already do?” Walker said, thinking of the schedule he had laid out in a notebook he acquired. They weren’t going to like being told  _ when _ , let alone  _ how. _

“But you’re more than prepared,” Raoul said, reading his mind as usual. Walker sighed, the sound starting to become a habit. 

“Go eat something, drink water, and stand in the sun,” Raoul directed, as if Walker were a neglected plant.

“Yes, sir,” Walker replied, giving Raoul a small, fond smile. The call ended with a few gentle words of encouragement from one side of the world to the other, and Walker hung up feeling marginally better.

That warm feeling faded into a steady calm. He had work to do.

He found the Avengers in their common area, chowing on sandwiches and arguing about something. 

“That makes no sense!” Tony exclaimed, waving his hands in the air. One held his food and the motion rained a few bits of lettuce on his head, to the amusement of his compatriots. The conversation ground to a halt when they noticed his presence, however, which made him wonder about the topic of discussion.

“There’s ingredients for another sandwich in the kitchen,” Wanda offered in her quiet voice. Walker thanked her and assembled his lunch to the chorus of his empty stomach. He sat next to Steve at the end of the table and dug in, suddenly starving. He felt eyes on him, but figured he’d better start getting used to it and ignored the attention. 

“Raoul seems nice,” Sam interjected into the silence.

Walker almost died on an inhale of ham. “Raoul is an asshole,” he clarified. “A scary, angry, cold blooded asshole.”

Wanda raised her eyebrows. “Appearances are deceiving?” 

Walker shook his head. “No, just misleading.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I bring out his loyal, sweet side, and that’s what you witnessed. That side doesn’t come out a lot.” 

“You seem to love him though,” Natasha said, glancing briefly to her left. 

“I do, like my mother bore him too,” he said, “But you have to be honest when it comes to who and what a man is. No sense in pretending.” Walker got up and washed his dish in the sink. “Anyway, there will be a meeting in the same conference room as before. 2 pm. We’ll discuss schedule adjustments and training practices.”

“Big Man’s ready to make some changes!” Tony announced, his smile cold. 

“Be there,” was all Walker said before walking out.


	7. Room for Improvement

Barnes had several feelings, all of them valid, and none of which he could put a name to. Lunch got quiet once Walker left as everyone prepared themselves for dealing with another jackass who wanted to come in and redo their lives to suit his vision. Tony was muttering at his plate and Natasha just looked tired. 

“Well, this’ll be fun!” Clint said and Wanda hummed in agreement. 

He had only given them 15 minutes to finish and clean up, so they were soon packed into the elevator and heading down to the conference room in silence. When they entered the room, they saw paper, pens, and a still of Tony projected on the screen. 

“Time for business,” said Walker, clicking his pen for emphasis.

“Does the pleasure come after?” Barnes asked, still determined to get some sort of reaction.

“During,” Walker replied. “My presence is always a pleasure.”

Everyone pretended they didn’t find that at least a bit funny. Walker didn’t seem to care at all. Instead, he pointed at the pieces of paper, one set at each chair.

“I want you to write down the times you prefer to wake up and go to bed. Ranges are fine, as are multiple options.” 

Once they had done so, he collected the sheets and slid them into a notebook, then gestured to the screen.

“I got to see some of your fighting techniques yesterday, and I asked Miss Friday for video of the whole session. I have some suggestions and things I’d like for us to work on going forward.” He hit play and video Tony soared through the air, took careful aim, and shot one of the hologram enemies. 

“Too careful,” Walker said, which elicited noises of indignation from both Tony and Steve. Walker held up a hand. “I don’t mean to say that you should shoot wildly and risk hitting innocents. I mean that we need to improve your skills until you are confident in shooting more quickly.”

“Humph,” said an offended Tony, but Steve seemed to calm a bit, at least until his face showed up on the screen. Walker hit play and they watched Steve just…fight. Barnes wasn’t quite sure what they were supposed to be observing. Walker pressed pause.

“Too heavy,” he said. “You hit hard, and when you are hit, you take it hard. There is little flexibility in your motions. You rely so much on your strength that you limit your potential for greater fluidity and a decreased chance and severity of injury.”

“I can heal from a broken bone in 2 days,” Steve said, unimpressed by the criticism.

“That’s fantastic,” replied Walker. “Now imagine if you didn’t break that bone in the first place?”

Natasha snickered at that and Walker glanced at her. “He does this a lot?”

“Only every mission,” she said. “ _ Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine! I’m a supersoldier! I’m invincible!” _ she continued, lowering her voice and puffing out her chest. Steve gave her a betrayed look. Barnes snorted.

“I will work with you on learning to weave that flexibility into your fighting style,” Walker said. “It’ll be mostly martial arts techniques, but also some tricks I’ve learned along the way.”

“That might be okay,” Steve admitted stiffly.

Walker finished with Barnes, to his surprise. Barnes knew what he was going to say after 5 seconds of the video and was ready to fight about it.

“I protect Steve too much,” he said, hoping to throw Walker off guard, but only got a sharp nod. 

“And you place your left arm in harm's way an unreasonable amount of the time,” Walker added. “You hate it, and I understand that, but we need to get you to focus on your own safety first, then the safety of others.”

Something he said stuck in Barnes' brain, though, and he growled through grit teeth, “How could you possibly understand?” Walker was right, though it pissed Barnes off to acknowledge that even internally, but he hated when people pretended to get it, as if they possibly could. 

Walker pulled up his right pant leg to show the pale flesh tone of a prosthetic. It looked strange against his caramel skin. 

“It’s not a part of me. It never will be. But if I don’t protect it like it’s mine, I could put my whole team at risk, along with those I’m fighting to protect.” 

Tony leaned forward to get a closer look. “Is that just a basic prosthetic?” he asked. 

“Plastic and rubber,” Walker told him, pulling the pant leg bag down and removing his boot from the table. 

“It could be so much better than that,” Tony whispered, gears turning and blueprints flying behind his eyes. Walker gave him a speculative look, then turned off the projector. 

“That’s all I have for you today. I’m going to put together a generic daily schedule for wake up, training, meals, meetings, and bed. I will share those schedules with you tomorrow at lunch.” 

He knew it was rude to ask, had snapped at people who asked him the same question in the past, but he couldn’t help himself. “How did it happen?”

Walker paused and appeared to weigh his response. “Land mine.”

Barnes grimaced in sympathy. “I fell off a train into a ravine.”

Walker winced. “At least the rest of us is still here.”

Tony pulled a flask out of nowhere and waved it in the air. “I can toast to that!” 


	8. Sweet Dreams are not Made of These

That went better than he had dared expect.

In his mind, he would make his propositions and the Avengers would do everything in their power to resist. Granted, Barnes had never actually agreed to anything, but Walker thought he might be able to pull on the bond that they were forming to get him to cooperate. Revealing such a vulnerability went against every fiber of his being, but he needed this to work out. He was already invested, stupidly, and whatever worked to gain their trust was worth it to him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the way Tony had looked at his leg, though, unsure of what it could mean. 

It was dinner time, so Walker went to the cafeteria and loaded up on everything they offered. He tucked himself into a corner, back to the wall, and watched the SHIELD agents mill about, chattering with each other in groups or posturing as the  _ lone wolf  _ type and huddling by themselves at the peripheries. 

Like he was doing.

Except he wasn’t alone for long. He had been kind of hoping that they would eat in their kitchen or order out and sit in their living room. He was tired and didn’t have much left in him to engage with their style of conversation. They seemed to sense this, because though they each glanced over at him, they left him to his corner and took one of the more central tables, sprawling out as they talked over each other. Walker sat and observed the way Barnes slung his (right) arm around Steve’s shoulders and kicked Sam at a comment he made; watched the way Clint and Natasha pressed their sides together, eating with their outer hands to facilitate their hidden linkage; saw how the thoughts whizzing about in Tony’s brain were almost visible; noted that Wanda only relaxed when someone looked at her. She met his gaze across the room, and he gave her a small salute. She returned it, not bothering to fake a smile. 

He finished his meal quickly and headed to the basement. He pulled out the book he was reading, a thin paperback with adventure and romance from one of his favorite American authors and leaned against one of the boxes under the light, slowly flipping through the pages. It took him 20 years to learn how to read English at a school he worked day and night to be worthy of, so he was damn careful to make sure he never forgot how. 

Once he reached a good stopping point, he pulled the sheets of paper out of his notebook and sifted through them. The image that emerged was one of widely varying schedules, with wake-up times anywhere from 5 am to noon and bedtimes anywhere from 9 pm to 3 am. So, he did an average and wound up with 8 am and 11 pm. Some would be happier than others, but he didn’t particularly care. He penciled in breakfast, a team meeting, warm up, combat training, mission briefing and/or research, lunch, gear maintenance, weapons training, a team meeting, and dinner. After that was up to them. He wasn’t their mother. 

Work done, he tucked the sheets, along with his drafted schedule, back into the notebook. He climbed into his loft, then took off his boots and prosthetic, balancing unevenly on both knees to reach and place it all on a nearby box. He crawled into his bedroll, smushing his face into the incredible softness of the pillow and falling fast asleep.

*******

Barnes was restless. Too many thoughts were flashing through his mind and he couldn’t find anywhere near the amount of calm he’d need to sleep. So, he went to the training gym and had Friday run the hardest program.

He rolled and flipped and kicked and punched and twisted and slid and still could not fight off the image of Walker’s expression when he showed them his leg. It had been so carefully blank that he could only be experiencing the strongest emotions. Thinking of his own experience, he could guess it was fear. A soldier never likes to show weakness, especially soldiers of their caliber. He didn’t want Walker to be afraid. He wanted him…

One of the robots caught him in the stomach and he doubled over, spluttering. Friday paused the program as he struggled to suck in his next breath. Once he was able to capture a few good lungfuls, he straightened and had Friday put the training area to rest. He headed for the showers and as he turned the corner the mental image from earlier, of Walker shirtless and combing his hair hit him with full force. He’d been forcing it down all day, but in the quiet of the empty locker room, there was nothing to distract from it. The scars from knives and bullets were scattered over the skin of Walker’s back with harsh streaks of white, some even crossing each other. The stripes from a whip stood out bold and a kind of brand marked his left shoulder. The design was intricate, and Barnes had no idea what it meant. In his humble opinion, it all just served to highlight the strength in his muscles, the dignity in his spine. Barnes just wanted to taste that skin, see if it was as sweet as it looked. 

That thought brought his cock to attention, and he pressed his hand to it. 

_ I’m losing control. _

Heading for the showers, he stripped and set the water to scalding hot. It ran down his chest and thighs as he leaned into the spray, hoping to burn the thoughts from his mind. But the heat only built in his groin, and the sensation of Walker’s body hit him again. He groaned and gripped his cock, pulling slow to savor flutter of pleasure at the touch. He stroked himself steadily, thinking of dark hair and gold flecked eyes, warm skin and rough hands, powerful legs and a full mouth. Soon, he was hitting his peak and spilling onto the tiles below with a gasp. 

Hadn’t known the guy a week and he was already coming at the thought of him. 

_ Desperate much? _

That apparently was the answer to his insomnia, though, because he could suddenly feel his bed beckoning sweetly from several floors away. An elevator ride brought him to his domain, where he followed the siren song and face planted on the comforter. Crawling up so his face was one the pillow instead, he drifted quickly into sleep.

He dreamt of snow.


	9. Misery Loves Company

The second Barnes stepped into the cafeteria, Walker knew something was wrong. His posture was condensed, eyes darting, hands shoved in his pockets and fingertips pressed into his thighs. He looked both hunted and haunted, chased by ghosts. When he made eye contact with Walker, Walker offered the seat beside him. Steve was close beside him and glanced over as well. They took his offer, sitting down silently and starting at their food more than eating it. 

“I’m sorry you had a bad night,” Walker said, tone soft. It happened often enough to him that he hated seeing the wounds in others.

“Me too,” Steve said, smiling thinly. 

“Do you have people you talk to?” Walker asked. “To help share this trouble?”

“Finding a therapist that’s a good fit is…difficult,” Steve told him, deliberately avoiding looking at Barnes, who was methodically stabbing his omelet. Walker waved his hand.

“No, of course. They do not understand,” he agreed. “I meant others who have experiences like you.” 

Barnes snorted, having reduced the omelet to tiny, neat squares. “I have yet to meet someone else who’s been frozen for decades and forced to commit mass murder.”

“They don’t have to understand everything,” Walker acknowledged. “Just enough.”

Barnes snorted again. Walker leaned in to catch his eye, which was reluctantly allowed.

“Do you think you’re the only one, even in this room, who has been coerced into killing innocents by evil men?” Barnes stared at him, unblinking. 

Walker let out a deep sigh that turned a few heads, which whipped back around quick with a glare. 

“Let’s just say that calling you a mass murderer means they should come up with a new word for me.”

Though slightly nauseous, Walker turned back to his breakfast and dug in, knowing he’d need the strength to get through this day. He could feel Steve and Barnes both staring at him, but he ignored the attention and chewed through his food. Once he cleared his plate, he moved to stand, but Barnes cleared his throat. 

“The children haunt me the most,” he whispered, not looking at anyone.

“The children will guide me to Hell while holding their grandparent’s hands,” Walker replied, then returned his dishes to the designated area and left the room. 

Now upset and overwhelmed, he headed straight for the training room, needing to evict this energy from his body. He wasn’t alone for long, soon joined by Steve and Barnes, then the rest of the team. They eyed him pummeling the punching bag and left him be, setting up a training simulation to run through. All but Barnes threw themselves into the holographic fray, who walked over and observed for a time before interrupting.

“Spar?” he asked, weakly gesturing at the boxing ring. He looked exhausted.

“Sure,” Walker said, and they got into position and squared up.

The fight flowed in controlled chaos, slow to start, then building in ferocity. Barnes’ blows had a vicious edge to them that made Walker more careful in his dodges. He danced around the larger man, sliding in and out of his space, almost landing punch after kick after elbow, but never meeting his mark. He flipped and Barnes rolled, he rolled and Barnes spun. They pivoted around an unseen axis until the sweat made them blind and their hearts threatened to burst. That was, until Walker landed a hit to Barnes jaw that spilled blood and knocked him to the ground.

Panicking, Walker dropped beside him and cupped his face, turning his head to the side to see the injury. Blood ran from a split in the skin along his jawbone, dark red staining his neck and sprinkling onto the mat below. Walker pursed his lips, upset, until Barnes tugged his braid with a low chuckle.

“I’m fine.” 

“You need to see the doctor,” Walker said, helping him stand, though he didn’t need the assistance. 

“I need to take a shower,” Barnes countered. “It’s already healing.”

Sure enough, the bleeding had ceased, and the edges of the wound didn’t look quite as raw. Walker blinked, having forgotten that Steve was not the only supersoldier on the team. 

“You’re still welcome to join me, Boss,” Barnes added with a wink. 

Walker couldn’t help but chuckle. Barnes was at least feeling a bit better.

“Maybe next time, sweet cheeks,” Walker said as he brushed past him to get to the showers first. 

Under the hot flow of the water, he heard footsteps pause outside his curtain.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” he yelled, earning a genuine laugh from Barnes, who then proceeded to the shower beside his. Walker was blindsided by an image of what Barnes looked like wet and naked, and he shook his head hard to clear the picture from his now very interested mind. Another part of him was very interested too, but he squashed the feeling and vowed to probably never think of that again. He finished as fast as he could and dried off with remarkable speed. Barnes exited his shower while he was doing his hair and he blessed his darker skin for hiding the blush that crept into his cheeks when he saw him. 

Barnes' skin was worlds too pale to hide the color that lightly stained his cheeks when his gaze wandered down Walker, then snapped back up to meet his gaze. 

“Conference room in 20,” was all Walker could think to say, and Barnes nodded awkwardly. 

“I’ll tell the others.”

Walker finished his routine, then fetched his notebook and papers from the bag he kept, stashing his workout clothes inside. He made his way to the room and copied the schedule he had drafted onto the virtual chalkboard. He was writing the final line when the team meandered in, taking their seats and watching his motions. There was an “oh man” and a “come on” from behind him, but he was expecting that. He turned around.

“Morning,” he said. “How did you feel training went?”

“Less intense than yours,” Clint proposed, everyone nodding in agreement. 

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Natasha asked, intrigued.

“The Congo,” Walker responded. “I had to learn to survive, to sense my opponent before and as they moved.” He then pointed at the board, diverting the conversation. “This is the new schedule. I trust you can read it so I don’t have to, but overall, I expect a general adherence to these times. Exceptions include holidays, weekends, and during and after missions.”

“I haven’t woken up at 8 am since I was in middle school,” said Tony indignantly. 

“It’s a compromise between all of your schedules,” Walker clarified. “It’s not perfect for any one person.”

“Seems kind of perfect to me,” said Sam with a shrug. 

“Well aren’t you special, Wilson,” Tony snarked, and Walker shot him a stern look. 

“Routine is good for the body and mind,” Walker said. “Even one as general as this. Regular sleep, meals, and exercise will make you happier and healthier. That is the goal.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to push us to the limit, hone us into machines?” Tony said sarcastically and Walker furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Who told you that?”

Natasha explained, “Our last commander was like that. All about pedal to the metal and optimization.”

“You are not machines,” Walker said slowly. “You need to be cared for. I will train you and help you become even better than you already are, but I will not accomplish that by burning you out.”

“That,” Tony declared, “is uncomfortably reasonable.”

“So it’s settled,” Walker said. “Copy this schedule down and keep to it. Team meetings will be in this room and meals can be anywhere you want. Like I said, weekends are yours, but I’d like if you’d at least do warm up exercises to stay loose.”

Steve nodded. “We typically do. This schedule isn’t too far from what we do anyway.”

“That was the idea,” Walker replied. “I don’t intend to be disruptive.”

“So, it’s not your way or the highway?” asked Tony. Walker hooked his thumbs in the loops of his pants.

“Oh, the highway’s closed for construction,” Walker said. “But at least my way has options.”


	10. Sound of Music

This was the first test. Breakfast was an individual affair, making the team meeting the initial contact of the day. The question was whether they would show up at the designated time, and what he would do if they didn’t. He waited for the clock on the wall to hit 9 am, sipping his mug of coffee and waiting for them to trickle in. They did, one by one by one by….

Walker paused and leaned to see around Steve. No Tony. He wasn’t even in the general vicinity of surprised, but it wasn’t acceptable. He stared at the team that was present, and they stared back.

“Who would like to come with me while I sing Tony awake?” he asked. The Avengers contemplated the image his words evoked, then everyone’s hand went up. They piled into the elevator. It was a tight fit with the bulk of the men, so Walker pressed into whoever was behind him to give Natasha and Wanda more space near the door. The lift gave a jolt and Walker was steadied by a hand on his hip, which immediately retreated before the door opened onto Tony’s floor. 

They unloaded into the living room, which was a disaster zone. Clothing, tools, and various mechanical parts were strewn about, with takeout containers stacked on the kitchen counter. Walker, aware that entering his bedroom would be an extreme invasion of privacy, stood close to the door and took a deep breath. He began to sing, loud and deep, in a language foreign to everyone but him. Something crashed to the floor in the room, with a confused, “What the fuck?”

Walker stopped when he heard footsteps approaching and backed away. When Tony opened up, he was greeted with an expectant Walker and a wildly amused set of teammates. His hair was askew and he wasn’t wearing pants, and he just blinked like an owl for a few moments before reality flushed the sleep from his mind. 

“What the fuck?” he repeated, glancing between Walker and those behind him. 

“You’re late,” Walker informed him, and Tony appeared lost for a half a second before narrowing his eyes and face scrunching into an impressive scowl. 

“You woke me up for the team meeting?” he hissed. Walker stared at him evenly.

“9 am, Monday through Friday,” he said. “Today is Tuesday.”

“I went to bed at 2 am!” Tony exclaimed, the dark circles under his eyes confirming this.

“Tonight, you will go to bed at 11 pm,” Walker directed. “And then you will get enough sleep to be awake in time for the day to begin.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tony said, but apparently found no sympathy elsewhere, because he just grumbled and turned back into the room. Walker almost followed him to keep him from crawling back into bed, but Tony waved a hand and said, “I know, I know, I’m just getting dressed, for Christ’s sake!”

Once he was properly clothed, they herded him to the elevator. They returned as a group to the conference room and sat down, minus Walker, who stood at the head of the table. 

“Well done on the first part of today,” Walker said. “I was expecting more of a fight and am relieved that it wasn’t.” He gave a nod to Tony. “Right now, I want to go over some intelligence we received last night about possible Hydra operations, as well as give you some time to ask questions, if you have any.”

“Where?” Barnes asked, eyes burning into his. 

“France and Iran,” Walker said, pulling up a map on the board behind him. He talked about the phone call he had received in the early hours of the morning, the tip on a shipment of something valuable to Hydra from one secret base to the other. His network was wide and united by a hatred of Nazis, so any time a fly landed he felt the vibrations. He told them about the night route, the armored trucks, and the armed mercenaries that would defend their cargo to the death. 

“And no, I don’t know what they are transporting,” Walker said. “But whatever it is, Hydra needs it, so  _ we _ need to fuck it up.”

“Careful with that language, Boss,” Tony chimed in, looking at Steve.

“Fuck you, Tony,” Steve responded, which earned a subtle fist bump from Barnes under the table. Tony feigned horror and clutched his heart. 

“Such profanity!”

“This doesn’t go down until tomorrow, so we’ll spend today training and preparing,” Walker informed them. “We’ll wait to start tweaking your fighting skills until after,” he said. “No need to add confusion. But we need to make sure you’re watertight or Hydra will sink your ship.”

“You’ve crossed paths with them before?” Natasha asked.

“I’ve knocked boots with them a few times,” Walker said, and Clint spit out his coffee. Sam groaned from the spray field. 

Wanda gave a small smile. “I believe you meant the phrase ‘Come toe to toe with’,” she offered. 

“They are not the same?” Walker asked, and Wanda shook her head. He thanked her for the clarification. “Regardless, we are going to follow our schedule today and get ready to leave early tomorrow morning. Understood?”

“Yes, Boss.”


	11. Hard Hats Not Required

The whole team was in the room when he walked in, the space filled with a tense energy that tingled along his spine. Dressed head to toe in their gear and quiet as they watched him, they were a far cry from their typical squabbling adolescent behavior. Walker could feel how thin the leash was that reigned in their capacity for violence, and his respect for them grew. They were his kind of people: warriors to the bone. 

“Good morning,” he greeted, observing his team. He got nods and a grunt in return, which was acceptable given the early hour for some. “We’ve got work to do.”

He pulled up the map on the screen. “Hydra is moving something special from Tehran to just outside Milan,” he said. “They left last night, and we want to intercept them before they make it too close to Italy.” When he got no response, he continued. “I’ve been told your jet is one of the fastest outside the military.” He looked to Tony for confirmation, who sniffed.

“Fastest considering the military too.”

“Wonderful, because I want us to hit the safe house they’re stopping at in 4 hours,” Walker said, then outlined the plan. “From watching you train, I think I have a good feel for how you work. I’ve divided us up depending on strengths to keep a balance between pairs. We need two ground teams, one supersoldier each, Sam in the air, and Clint up high. Wanda, you’ll cover the entrance of the base. Your only job is to make sure no one escapes. Natasha, your style is similar to Barnes, so you’ll watch Steve’s back and I’ll get Barnes.”

“Hold on!” Sam said. “You’re coming with us?”

“Of course,” Walker said, confused. “Is that a problem?”

“All of our previous commanders have directed us from here on missions,” Wanda told him, and he scowled. 

“I would not expect you to risk your lives in a fight I wasn’t fighting myself. Besides, there is no better way to understand what is happening on the ground than to be there in person.”

Sam gave him a considering look. “Yes, Boss.”

“Then let’s load up.”

*******

The flight was a comfortable quiet as everyone went through their rituals. Steve read a book while Barnes sharpened his knives; Natasha checked her guns while Sam inspected his wings with Wanda’s help. Clint napped in the copilot’s seat while Tony flew the jet. Walker prayed to the various gods he had adopted along the way. He had yet to decide how much it helped, but he was sure it didn’t hurt any, especially as it calmed the roll of his stomach. Enough to keep him from the bathroom, at least, but not enough to avoid the green tinge to his complexion.

“You alright, Boss?” Wanda asked, leaning into the aisle separating them.

“I get motion sick,” Walker admitted, and the team gave him surprised looks. “What? Doesn’t mean I can’t do my job.”

Clint shook his head. “Not suggesting that,” he assured. “Just wondering why you didn’t say anything. We could’ve grabbed some Dramamine or something.” 

“Some what?” Walker asked, and Clink blinked.

“You know, the nausea medication.”

“Oh. Never heard of it,” Walker told them, and Steve reached out to pat him on the back. 

“We’ll pick some up for you once we’re back.” The conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence as everyone resumed their rituals. 

Right on time, they were coasting over the Turkish scrubland, cloaking technology rendering them invisible to the sparse villages below. Their target blipped red on the navigation screen, rapidly approaching. Tony set them down in a nearby clearing, engaging the extra camouflage to hide the jet while they piled out. Clear in their objective, they stalked silently to the northwest. The base soon came into view, masquerading as an abandoned mining outpost with poorly concealed trucks to its south side. Steve insisted on entering first, then Natasha, Barnes and Walker followed by the rest. The air was damp and cold, an old mustiness clotting in their noses as they descended the wide wooden stairs. The sound of voices floated up and they made their steps light, Walker’s eyes boring into Barnes’ back. 

A mercenary walked into the hallway as they approached the bottom and Steve moved first, throwing the shield to break his neck with a quiet snap. His death didn’t go unnoticed, however, and the yelling had started by the time Natasha sent the first bullet through the doorway. Steve shoved into the room with Natasha in his wake, while Barnes and Walker slid past, pushing deeper into the base. Drawn by the sound of gunfire, a cadre of soldiers rushed into the hallway and the pair had to take defensive positions, one covering the other while they fired at bodies wrapped in black and red armor, aiming to enhance the latter hue. They moved like deadly clockwork, fire/reload, reload/fire, dropping Hydra goons until the walkway was littered with corpses. The loud bursts stopped when the last body hit the ground, and Barnes stood to better survey the area. He waved them forward, and Walker stepped carefully around and between splayed legs and arms. They repeated their performance when a second wave approached, shell casings falling hot to their feet and the smell of gunpowder burning their noses. 

Steve and Natasha delivered the coup de grace on the final combatants, and they moved together as a unit, splitting in two again to clear adjacent rooms. Finding those empty, they continued, when Walker had a thought.

“Sam,” he whispered into the mic. “Check the trucks.”

“Yessir,” came the slightly staticky response. 

“What are you thinking?” Steve asked.

“Maybe they didn’t unload it,” Walker said, motioning them to continue. They stalked through the base, clearing rooms through observation or force, but finding no indication of a valuable package. They were almost to the end of the base, as far as Walker’s map had gone, when he had a  _ feeling. _ Dropping his rifle, he lurched forward and grabbed both Steve and Natasha by the belts, and using all his weight to haul them backwards, the momentum throwing him ahead. He leaned down just in time to hear the shotguns go off. His eardrums went numb as lines of heat swiped across his lower back. He pitched forward and rolled, not hearing as Barnes and Natasha shot both men point blank. He sat up, holding his head, trying to steady the sensation of being asea. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Steve, who was speaking without sound.

“I’m fine,” he said, or yelled, rather, judging by Steve’s wince. “Sorry,” he said, softer, and accepted Steve’s offered hand. He could at least read the  _ thank you _ on his lips and slapped Steve’s bicep.

“No problem.”

Behind him, metal fingers probed the tears in his armor and he hissed, swatting them away. “Scratches. Let’s go.”

He crouched to retrieve his rifle, ignoring the growing throb in his back. Once he straightened, they kept going, erupting into a large room with a high ceiling held up by thick beams. The only things inside were a plain, wooden crate and a mousy man frantically trying to shift it. 

“Don’t fucking move,” Barnes warned, and the man froze with a whimper. “Step away from the box.”

“You don’t understand,” the man whined. “You don’t understand.”

“Shut up,” Barnes said, then delivered a hard blow to his head with the butt of his rifle. The man collapsed and Steve bound his wrists and ankles with zip ties before slinging him over his shoulder. Barnes’ attempt to lift the crate was successful, so after ensuring the last few corners were cleared, Walker led their convoy out of the mine, with Natasha trailing out last. Bursting into the birdsong and sunlight, they squinted to reacquaint their eyes. Wanda, Clint, and Sam rushed over to see their prizes, debating over the contents of the box in Barnes arms. Clint poked the Hydra operative with one of his arrows and elicited a weak groan, also receiving a stern glance from Steve. 

“Everyone okay?” Sam asked, and raised his brows when Walker squinted as his mouth and those behind him shook their heads. 

“Boss got shot,” Natasha said. “Almost ate a pair of shotguns,” Barnes added, loud and unhelpful. 

“I’m fine,” Walker argued. “I’ve had worse from a tumble down a hill.” 

“Really?” Barnes questioned, jabbing the torn Kevlar. “What the hell was that hill made of?”

Walker jerked out of his reach and served him an irate look. “I’m. Fine.”

“Well, we have to go back to the jet either way,” Sam pointed out, reasonably. They followed his lead, Clint whistling a song Walker could barely hear, but liked. Barnes only got more obnoxious once they were on the ship, getting in Walker’s space as soon as they were flying level. 

“Take it off,” Barnes said, tugging at the edge of his body armor. He waited, then gave it another tug when he got no reaction. “It’s not a place you can clean up yourself, so take it off and let me fix you up.”

Walker resented the fact that Barnes was right. It’s not like he could reach it to wash or stitch.  _ Dammit. _

He unstrapped the vest and pulled it over his head, wincing at the stretch. He did the same with his shirt and made a pile of both on the floor. Barnes’ gaze lingered on him while he headed for the small medical bay, sorting through the supplies for the gauze, sutures, tweezers, and hydrogen peroxide. Planting himself on the examination table, he stared at Barnes expectantly, whose gaze snapped up to lock with his. 

“Wash your fucking hands,” Walker said when Barnes took a step towards him. Barnes snorted and did just that before coming over and grabbing the tweezers. Walker made no noise as Barnes pulled pieces of shot out of the tears in his skin, like comets buried in the earth after their celestial journey. The area was rinsed clean after the offending debris was removed, which  _ stung like a bitch _ . Barnes was gentle and skilled with the sutures, quickly stitching him up, bandages applied in no time. 

“All set, Boss,” Barnes said, squeezing his shoulder. Walker thanked him and donned his tattered shirt, sitting and leaning back gingerly in his seat. Eyes closed, he could hear the rustle of Barnes discarding the waste and settling into his own seat, chatting with Steve. He slipped into a half sleep state, dozing in and out of consciousness as they flew home. He woke with a start when they touched down at the Tower, shifting with a grunt and grabbing his now useless Kevlar and still useful rifle. As they exited onto the landing pad, Natasha reached out and stopped him. She didn’t say anything, just firmly squeezed his elbow and nodded. He nodded in return and she let go, heading into the Tower while he waited a moment to look out over the city and marvel as the sun set on a good day.

They were all tired and hungry, but no one could rest or eat until they knew what was inside the box. Barnes hauled it to the conference room and slammed it on the table. He held up his metal arm with a question in his eyes and Walker said, “carefully,” before he smashed the top of the box. Pulling out the splintered wood, his face scrunched in confusion when he peeked inside. A single crystal sat nested in a plastic box, pale pink and smooth cut. It was not bigger than Barnes’ fist when he lifted it out, turning it over as if the bottom would explain its purpose. 

“Well that’s interesting,” Tony said. Barnes passed it to Steve, who gathered no additional information from it. It was handed around, everyone gazing at it with consternation. What was so important about this crystal that it required that much protection? Regardless, it appeared harmless, for now at least. Curiosity satisfied and the world not in any imminent danger, they secured the conference room and headed to the shared floor to order dinner. It was Tibetan this time, which was another new one for Walker, but he enjoyed it immensely. They soon dispersed to shower and sleep, with weary  _ goodnight _ ’s wished by and to all. 

Walker didn’t feel like dealing with the bandages, so he bathed in the sink of the locker room once he was sure he would be alone. He wrapped his towel around his waist and carried his filthy clothing down to the basement, barefoot, wet braid cold along his spine. He changed into his last clean outfit and reminded himself to find where to wash his clothing, as well as where to buy more. He was apparently going to need a constant supply. Slumping into bed, he laid on his side with a deep sigh and was asleep almost immediately.


	12. Exercise in Madness

It took them two months to figure out what the crystal did, and only accomplished that through confiscating another crate during its transport from Arizona to New Mexico. This crate held a machine part that looked like a small satellite dish, only with a place to insert the crystal in the center where the receiver would be. 

“It amplifies energy,” Tony said to the assembled crowd, Clint chewing on an apple while crouched on a lab bench. “The metal in this piece has tiny grooves that spiral into the crystal, focusing electrical inputs that the crystal then attenuates.”

“What’s the purpose?” Steve asked, and Tony tapped his screwdriver on the table. 

“I have no idea, honestly,” he said. “Could be for sending some sort of signal, or it could be a weapon. Maybe communication. Who knows?”

“Keep them separate,” Walker ordered, pulling the crystal out of the metal grasp of the component. “Is there a secure space to store these?”

“The vault,” Tony answered. “I’ll stash them there, kept safely apart. 

“Thank you,” Walker said, then glanced at his watch. “We’re late for weapons training.”

Combat training had gone well. Steve was starting to finally loosen up in his movements after several sessions with Walker, and Barnes had pivoted to protect his left shoulder when Walker aimed a high kick at it. They were all making progress and Walker was proud.

They made their way to the armory, choosing their favorites and setting up in the firing range. This was not something that they needed much guidance on, all of them with impeccable aim. Walker took pleasure in watching Barnes shoot as he leaned against the wrong side of the observation glass. Barnes seemed to know it too, because he tended to show off, hitting difficult targets with ridiculous ease and a dramatic flair. A nice view all around. 

After a few minutes of admiring Barnes' attributes, he wandered over to Tony, who wore his gauntlets and was knocking targets out of the sky left and right. Walker had an idea, clapping loudly behind him just before he fired. The shot went wild, and he spun around, hands raised. Walker put his own hands up in surrender and Tony blinked.

“What was that for?” he demanded irritably. Walker wiggled his fingers. 

“Distraction,” he told him. “Battlefield is full of surprises.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, then nodded, turning back to the targets. Walker clapped every once in a while, and soon Tony was able to focus regardless and still hit his marks. Walker slapped him on the shoulder once the time was up.

“Good job.” 

They filed into the meeting room for their last team meeting of the day, with the two snipers swapping stories about their most impressive shots.

“I once got a guy from a mile away on a snowy night,” Barnes bragged, and Clint raised his hand.

“Uh, I nabbed some poor bastard through one building and into another from a telephone pole.”

“Two guys, one bullet, on a moving train car,” Barnes said.

“Arrow that pinned a dude to the tree from half a mile through a thunderstorm. Heavy winds, too,” added Clint. 

“Both of you are exemplary in your aim and courage,” Walker said dryly, earning a grin from both of them.

“Aw, Dad loves us equally!” Clint exclaimed, clutching his chest. 

Walker rolled his eyes, taking his usual seat at the head of the table. “I make no paternal claims.”

“Come on, Daddy,” Barnes purred, a wicked gleam in his eye. “You must have a favorite.”

Steve outright snickered, which got a small smile from Natasha. Tony grinned like it was Christmas. 

“First of all, never call me that again,” Walker said with a pointed finger. “Second, I do, in fact, have a favorite.” He glanced up. “Isn’t that right, Miss Friday?”

“I appreciate the affection and return it in equal amounts,” she said primly. 

Barnes sputtered and the room erupted in laughter. 

“My girl’s the best,” Tony agreed, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. 

“Yes, she is,” Walker confirmed, then pulled a deck of cards from his pocket. “Today, since we don’t have any pressing business, I’m going to teach you a game I call ‘not poker’.” He shuffled the deck and began dealing out 8 cards each. “The objective of the game is simple: get rid of your cards by matching them to the same number or rank. You start with 8 cards and either have cards that match in your hand, which you place down in front of you, or you obtain new cards through theft. You can steal cards either from the deck in the center, or from those sitting next to you. If you move to steal a card and someone hits your hand, though, you have to retreat.” 

Walker held up his cards, then laid out all of them face up in front of him. The rest appeared intrigued and followed suit. Walker had two 7’s, and paired them, flipping them backside up. While everyone else looked at their cards to do the same, Walker stretched, then lashed out a hand and stole one of Barnes cards, a king. Barnes yelped and took a swing, but missed, and Walker was able to flip another pair with a quiet cackle. 

“What order do we go in?” asked Wanda, and Walker shook his head. 

“There is no order. The game has begun. Whoever gets rid of all their cards first wins.”

There was a pause as everyone glanced around at their teammates, then the circle exploded in chaos, hands and cards flying. To no one’s surprise, Natasha came out on top, with the competition getting fiercer as Barnes, then Steve finished. Wanda snagged one of Walker’s cards and he was slapped away from the center deck. Walker returned the favor when Clint attempted the center, grabbing one himself instead. Wanda stole one of Sam’s cards without realizing it was his last, helping him to finish on a technicality. Tony took advantage of the growing Walker/Clint rivalry and snuck his winning card under their noses. Walker sighed and leaned back.

“Looks like we lost,” he said, and Clint groaned.

“Oh, come on!” 

“You’re not very good at your own game,” Barnes observed, and Walker didn’t disagree.

“Let’s do another,” said Sam, and the cards were reorganized, shuffled, and dealt out. Another beget another, and soon they had been playing for an hour and a half. Steve’s stomach grumbled and Walker paused in his dealing. 

“We should probably eat dinner, shouldn’t we,” he said, and the others took stock of their own hunger levels before nodding in agreement. Walker picked up the cards and they headed to the shared floor. Tony was pulling up menus when Walker interrupted.

“I’m making dinner,” he told them, heading to the fridge he had filled this morning. “Kielbasa and cabbage. I’ve been craving it.” 

“You cook?” Barnes asked, sitting at a counter bar stool. He leaned on his elbows and watched Walker remove the ingredients and arrange them on the other counter.

“Of course,” Walker replied. “I’ve had to survive on my own for most of my life.”

The meal prep was quick but comforting, and Walker found himself singing the same old song his mother would while she cooked. He never forgot the tune or its words, seared into his memory by grief. His voice slid smooth, building the rhythm, mouth shaping words in a language he only heard when he talked to himself. His body swayed gently as he finished cutting the meat and scraped it into the pan. While that cooked, he chopped the cabbage and mixed the sauce. His next song was another old favorite, and he flowed through the words like honey. Steaming the cabbage was the last major step before mixing it all together and simmering to combine flavors. Soon, it was ready, and they all sat to eat at the table.

It made Walker smile to watch them devour the dish, feeling truly at home for the first time. Barnes caught his eye and gave him a small smile in return, plus a thumbs up. 

“This is good food, Boss,” Clint said, and everyone else nodded with full mouths. 

“Thank you,” Walker said, clearing his own plate quickly. 

“I’ve got cleanup,” Steve volunteered, and the rest of them moved to the couches, turning on the television and flipping through movie options. They decided on “John Wick” by the time Steve joined them, fingers slightly pruned. He plopped next to Walker, who became enveloped by the dual supersoldier body head, with Barnes on his left. Tony hit play and a sense of calm comradery settled over them as the title sequence rolled. In that moment, Walker realized they were truly a team. 

*******

Like most of his qualities, Walker’s singing voice entranced Barnes. It was so warm and smooth, and though he didn’t understand the words, there was love and longing in them.

He was enjoying the movie when he felt Walker shift at his side. Barnes moved a bit in case he didn’t have enough room. A few minutes later he felt a weight lean against him and a head on his shoulder. He froze and peeked over to see Walker fast asleep. He barely breathed, afraid to disturb him, and he could see Steve silently laughing in the corner of his eye. He slowly raised a middle finger. He stayed still for the entire duration of the film, allowing Walker his rest and secretly thrilled to help facilitate it. When the movie finished and the lights were turned on, Walker barely stirred. Fairly confident he was in too deep a sleep to notice, Barnes twisted so he could lift Walker as he stood. He cradled his commander to his chest and headed to Walker’s floor. He was in the elevator when Friday interjected.

“If you are looking to put Walker to bed, you should know that he sleeps in the basement.”

“In the  _ what _ ?” Barnes said, astonished. 

“He has made a space for himself in the basement,” Friday revealed, and the elevator suddenly reversed directions. “He would prefer to wake there.”

Barnes, baffled, obliged, and traipsed down the stairs to the basement. He wandered for a bit, trying to find evidence of human settlement beyond the footprints that marred the dust on the floor, until he discovered the loft with its bedroll, complete with a small makeshift bookcase and books. He stared at the setup, confused, until he thought about the man he was holding, and decided it made sense. These past two months had brought them all closer together as a team, and they certainly meshed with Walker far better than with any other previous commander, but Walker still had a feral edge to him. This was probably worlds comfier than the posh apartment Tony had offered him.

He stepped onto the boxes and gently laid him on his bedroll, tugging the blankets over him as best he could. Walker didn’t relinquish his grip on Barnes' shirt easily, and Barnes had to carefully pry his fist open. 

Walker made a tiny noise that melted Barnes, who reached to smooth the dark strands from the other man's temple. “Sleep tight,” he crooned, tucking Walker in.

_ And don’t let the dust bunnies bite. _


	13. A Leg Up

Tony approached Walker a few days later with a prosthetic right leg, from toes to upper calf, spun of carbon fiber and weighted with steel. 

“It’s designed for balance and speed,” Tony said. “Heavy enough to maintain your equilibrium, without being clunky. It’s made of the most durable stuff and can withstand any sort of activity. Plus, it’ll hook up to your nervous system so you can flex your toes. Kinda like Barnes’ arm.”

Walker stared at it in awe. “Seriously?” he asked. “For me?”

“Wanna make sure you’re in peak condition,” Tony said. “With all the ass kicking and all. Helps to have both legs functional.” He winced. “Sorry. Functioning optimally, rather.”

“What is the surgery like?” Walker inquired, his vague fear of medical care rearing its head. 

“Surprisingly minimally invasive,” Tony said. “We have a surgeon on staff who does stuff for Barnes, and she’d be more than capable of hooking you up.”

“When?” Walker asked, eyes eager.

“Hell, we can do it today, if you want,” Tony said, and Walker beamed.

“Fuck it, why not?” 

*******

The fear was strong as they wheeled him into the operating room, but the anesthesia was stronger.

*******

When he awoke, his body felt foggy, so he stretched, arms and legs extended, and toes pointed. He went still. Both sets of toes. Ripping off the blankets, and stared down at his right leg, which was now black from about the knee down. It looked incredible and he flexed his toes again, watching the carbon fiber bend at each joint. He sat there repeating the motion for ten minutes before he was satisfied he wasn’t having an amazing hallucination. He turned to try walking when the chair to his left spoke.

“Don’t even think about standing yet,” Barnes warned, legs crossed and head leaning on his fist. 

Walker huffed, but didn’t fight it, not wanting to damage anything. He looked down at the hospital gown he wore and scowled.    
“Where are my clothes?” he asked, and Barnes pointed at a chair in the other corner. 

“May I have them?” Walker asked with an outstretched hand. Barnes passed them over. 

“Close your eyes,” Walker ordered, then shed the gown and wriggled into his shirt and sweatpants. Much more comfortable now, he laid back in bed. “You can open them now.” He narrowed his eyes and glanced over. “If you even shut them in the first place.”

“Course I did,” Barnes said. “I may be crude sometimes, but my momma raised a gentleman.”

Walker rolled on his side so he was facing Barnes. “What was your mother like?” he asked, catching Barnes by surprise. He thought for a moment before responding.

“You know how a campfire makes you feel safe and warm, automatically, no matter what?” Barnes said, voice soft. Walker nodded. “That was her. She could take the worst day away with a hug and a slice of pie, or a gentle talk.” He trailed off, shoulders slumping.

“I miss my mother too,” Walker commiserated. “She was a quiet woman, but could sing like an angel, and would when she cooked, cleaned, anything. She would always sing us to bed, too. That’s one of the things I miss most.”

Barnes was watching him, face etched with pain and regret.

“I promised her I’d come home,” he confessed. “Before I shipped out to Europe. Told her I’d be fine and that I’d see her for Christmas.” He paused for a long stretch of time. “Instead, she lived the rest of her life mourning a child she didn’t know was a monster.”

“My mother wouldn’t be able to stand being in the same room as me,” Walker said. “Not after all the things I’ve done. She’d keep me away with her rosary and curse my soul.” 

“You don’t know that,” Barnes said. “Mothers love deeply, even when their children do bad things.”

“My mother loved flowers, birds, baking sweets, and raising my siblings and I. She abhorred violence of any form. She said our family had already seen enough death for several generations. Even with stories, she’d leave the room when my grandfather spoke about the camps and what he and my grandmother went through to survive. Awful stories, important, but she couldn’t listen more than once.” Walker fell silent, eyes mournful. His fingers tapped on the pillow, mouth twisting into a grimace. “My remarkable capacity for violence is an insult to her memory and a stain on our family name.”

“Is that why you chose a new one?” Barnes asked, and Walker met his gaze.

He debated for a moment, then admitted, “My original name was the last thing she said before they shot her.” Barnes winced. “I haven’t been able to stand hearing it on anyone else’s lips since.”

The conversation hit a lull as they both stared into space, remembering pasts they couldn’t decide if they’d rather forget. Their musings were interrupted by the tentative knock of one of the nurses, coming to check the bandages around the connecting site. Everything looked fine, and when Walker asked about leaving, she promised to bring him crutches to use until the join healed. 

Barnes helped him up, still a little wobbly, and followed him to the elevator, where they rode in silence to the shared floor. Sure enough, the rest of the Avengers were there, enjoying an enthusiastic game of ‘not poker’. Walker was glad he could keep them entertained. They all looked up when Barnes and him walked in, Tony letting out a cheer.

“Walk this way, Boss!” Tony said, losing a card as Wanda took advantage of his distraction. 

“Thank you, Tony,” Walker said with a grateful grin. His toes brushed the floor and bent in response, and it was such a simple, yet incredible feeling that Walker didn’t stop smiling until he laid down to sleep. 


	14. Paint by Number

Walker twirled on the tips of his toes like a ballerina, then dropped into a crouch and leapt into the air as high as he could. He landed on the balls of his feet and spun, dropping to his right knee before taking off at a dead sprint across the gym. He executed a perfect tumble and split, toes pointed. He went into a handstand, then back to his feet.

A loud burst of applause erupted behind him as the Avengers cheered him on, only partly joking. 

“Beautiful!” Tony declared, chest piece shining through his “Eat me!” shirt. 

“It works wonderfully,” Walker told him, jogging over to their location. “No pain, no stiffness. Just like you dipped my real leg in ink.”

“Glad to hear it!” Tony said, genuine this time, clapping him on the shoulder. “Boss is back in business!”

“And the business today is teaching Steve how to not get hit,” Walker said. 

“Good luck with that,” Barnes said, folding his arms. Steve glared at him.

“I can dodge just fine,” he claimed, to everyone’s amusement.

“Since when?” Sam asked, poking Steve in the bicep. 

“How many times have you gotten shot in the past month?” Clint razzed, starting to count on one hand and having to add the other. 

“I’m not, in fact, faster than a speeding bullet,” Steve drawled. 

“No, you just stand out in the open, ignoring all basic military protocols and advertise your presence with the fucking stars and stripes,” Walker countered with an eye roll. Steve pulled off a look that was both sheepish and stubborn.

“Who cares? I’m fine,” he retorted, and Walker stared him dead in the eyes.

“Can you walk off a bullet through the neck? One through the heart? Through the base of your skull?” Walker demanded. “You have blood and that blood will gush from your body, just like for anyone else, if you’re even lucky enough to still be alive when you hit the ground.” The team was silent now, observing them. “I’ve buried so many people in my lifetime that I have permanent callouses from the shovel. I’d rather not wear you on my skin too.”

Steve had no way to respond to that and only gaped, then gave a guilty head tilt. “Yes, Boss.”

Once that was established, Walker led them to the collection of paintball guns he had acquired from the SHIELD training room. There was a unique color for each team member, minus Steve, who grew increasingly concerned as his teammates expressed their glee. 

“Whoever hits Steve the most, wins.” Walker grabbed a gun himself and loaded it. “We have ten minutes. Go.” 

There was jockeying for the best positions as Steve scrambled for cover. Colors began flying as shots were fired, Clint landing the first hit and Barnes the second. Steve ran behind the mats and Natasha shot him in the ass as he sprinted, to Barnes’ entertainment. Walker clipped his ear before Steve dove behind his makeshift barrier, staining it blue. The battle continued, Steve running from location to location and trying desperately to dodge the paint. He was largely unsuccessful. By the time the ten minutes were up, he was a veritable rainbow, if it were painted by someone who didn’t quite know which were the right colors. Steve was stoic, but his lips threatened to twist upwards. His teammates rallied around him, smearing paint with their fingers across his cheeks, rubbing it into his hair and streaking it down his arms.

“Hilarious, guys,” he said.

“Just makin’ you pretty, Stevie,” Barnes drawled, dragging his hand through some pink and then slapping his ass, leaving a perfect hand print behind. 

“I appreciate it,” Steve deadpanned, a trail of green sliding down his forehead.

“Anytime, man,” Sam responded, leaving a thumbprint on the tip of Steve’s nose. 

The mood was light and warm, and Walker got pats on the back as they divided into their respective locker rooms.   
“Good idea, Boss,” Sam said with a hearty thump. Wanda squeezed his hand. “That was fun.” Natasha gave him a nod of approval and Tony was beside himself with joy. 

Walker just hoped he had grabbed the washable paint. 


	15. Old MacDonald

He could almost feel the combat boots with his prosthetic foot as they rode the jet, this time to Wisconsin. Some Hydra base in the middle of nowhere had suddenly started drawing power after being dormant for a year, so they were going to check it out. Walker was making extra sure that his guns would be clean and just about jam-proof. The others were playing ‘not poker’. They were developing an addiction they indulged from take-off to touch-down a mile outside the base. 

Their boots crunched in the glitter of early morning frost. The chill in the air caught their breath and carried it away in whorls and puffs. The forest was quiet, still asleep, save the occasional burst of birdsong. They approached the base, the laughter of earlier put aside for the focus of the mission. Their objective appeared straightforward, but a simple investigation could go to shit in a finger snap. 

This base masqueraded as a commercial farm, with closed barns and grain silos holding God knows what. They entered the base from the west side, near the corn fields, avoiding the electrified white picket fence the old-fashioned way: Steve tossed them over before jumping himself. Tony ran sweeps for traps and sensors as they moved through the tall stalks, rifles up and eyes forward. 

“Stop,” Tony said, and everyone froze as he disabled a camera. He was probably the only one on the planet who could hack a camera in the middle of a corn field. Once it was safe, they proceeded, soon reaching the house. 

“Business as usual,” Walker said, and they paired up, with Sam and Tony taking to the sky and the others heading into the house. They swept every corner of the two floors and found it empty, then Barnes had a thought. 

“Basement.”

“There isn’t one,” Walker replied, having studied the blueprints.

“I’m sure there is,” Barnes contradicted, so they fanned out to find the entrance. Clint stumbled across a loose floorboard, which turned out to have a latch underneath. Everyone poised around it, guns at the ready, then Steve yanked it open. The smell hit them first, rot and human waste. Peering down, they saw small forms scrambling away from the influx of light. Barnes went down the ladder first, swearing when he came to the bottom and looked around. He got out of Walker’s way and moved towards the north corner of the room, dropping into a crouch and putting down his rifle. 

Walker’s eyes took a second to adjust, and then he saw them too: children of all ages, their bodies dirty and barely clothed. They cowered against the wall, clutching at each other, eyes wide. 

“It’s okay,” Barnes soothed, holding out a hand. None of the children moved. Natasha and Steve descended the ladder, and Steve took a sharp inhale of breath. 

“For experiments,” was all Natasha said. 

One child started crying quietly, and Walker dropped down beside Barnes.

“We’re here to help you,” Walker assured them. “Would you like to leave here?” The children who were old enough to understand all nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

“I’ll take them back, Boss,” Clint said, and Wanda offered to assist. Walker filled Sam and Tony in on the situation, both of whom expressed their thoughts about Hydra’s propensity for committing the worst atrocities. Steve, Clint, Wanda, and Walker passed children hand by hand up the ladder while Barnes and Natasha stood guard. Sneaking out the side door, the two Avengers held a toddler each and kept their weapon in the other, Wanda taking up the rear as the human chain headed back into the corn. 

Walker wasn’t the only one with a bad feeling about the ease of that rescue, and they all crept towards the barn, filled with trepidation. On the count of three, Natasha opened the side door and a shot rang out. Steve stumbled, then spun out of the way of the subsequent explosion of gunfire. Pressing a hand to his shoulder, he waved the other at the team. 

“Dodging, Steve, dodging,” Barnes said, and Steve scowled. “It’s nothing.” 

Steve put up his shield and they went in hot, fingers pulling the trigger in a deadly rhythm. Their targets never overlapped and soon they were dug into a defensible position behind a barricade of crates and actual farm equipment. 

“Keeping up the image,” Natasha said with dry humor. 

They took out knees and took off heads, pushing forward to the next hiding spot, then the next until they reached yet another basement. This time, the entrance was hidden amongst hay bales.

“They really stuck with the farm theme,” Barnes muttered, and Walker snorted. 

They descended shield first, but nothing could protect them from what they witnessed below. Rows and rows of plexiglass cells, each holding a child deformed or damaged in some way. Their injuries were revealed by a lurid green light: blinded eyes, long, jagged scars, missing limbs, implants, and things even they couldn’t explain. The children’s faces were expressionless until the main lights suddenly flipped on and their faces twisted in fear. Those expressions twisted into terror as a yellow gas began to fill each cell, the children rushing to the sides of their prisons and clawing at the walls. The Avengers sprinted to help, pounding at the glass, even resorting to shooting it, to no avail. The material held firm and forced them to watch the children slide to the floor.

“No,” Walker said, voice desperate, but there was nothing they could do. The lights flipped off again, the return of the sick green adding to the horror in the room. 

“Damn them,” Natasha whispered, even her rock steady hands shaking in the grip of her gun. 

“What’s going on, Boss?” Tony asked through the earpiece. 

“We’re going to burn this place down,” came Walker’s reply. 

“Sounds like a plan!”

The rest of the mission was a blur, a whirlwind of bullets and blades that left no survivors in their wake. So focused on wiping out every last Hydra operative, they almost missed the side room holding only one object: a wooden crate.

“This feels like a video game,” Steve muttered, staring at it suspiciously. 

“Well, I’m not having fun,” Barnes said as he lifted the bulk, speaking for the first time in a while. 

“None of us are,” Walker snapped, then immediately apologized. 

“No worries,” Barnes assured him as they carefully made their way back the way they came, trying hard to keep their eyes from straying to the sides. Tony transported the crate to the jet while the team cleared the rest of the base, finding it empty. 

“We must’ve been early to the party,” Steve thought aloud. Walker shouldered his rifle to call Fury, requesting an investigative team at the farm and police and child services at the Tower, giving a brief overview of their discoveries.

“We need body bags and vodka,” was the general gist of the conversation.

There was no talking on the flight back.

It was the last whisper from Hydra for months.


	16. Locked and Goaded

“Tony,” Walker said, leaning against the door frame to his lab. He got no answer from the man sprawled underneath….something. “Tony.” He walked to the other side and crouched down. “Toooonnnyyyy.”

Nothing.

He got on his knees and squeezed himself into the space between Tony and whatever machine he was currently asleep under. Eyes level with the welder’s mask, he stared at the protective glass, then tapped it. Still no response. Knowing fully it was a bad idea, he took a deep breath and yelled, “TONY!”

Tony emitted a high yelp, sitting upright and slamming Walker’s head into the bottom of his contraption. His mask caught the bridge of Walker’s nose, which exploded with blood. Walker collapsed to the side in a fit of hysteria, making wet cackling sounds while Tony swore. 

“Is everything okay, Sir?” Miss Friday asked, and Tony cussed louder.

“Commander Asshole may need even more medical attention soon if he doesn’t get out of my goddamn lab!”

Walker, still laughing, crawled out from under the machine, dripping blood onto the concrete. 

“Do you require medical assistance, Boss?” Miss Friday asked, and he snorted painfully, then fixed his nose. 

“I’m good, honey. Thanks for asking.” 

“The fuck did you want so bad?” Tony demanded, now leaning against the outside of the machine, mask off and staring at Walker in bewilderment.

“How do you feel about laser tag?”

*******

Barnes just about lost his shit when Walker came into the conference room, shirt splattered with red. The only explanation he would provide was, “Don’t wake the bear.”

*******

There were six vests in the gym when the Avengers assembled, each outfitted with special sensors. Tony’s suit stood at attention beside them, gauntlets refitted to shoot non-lethal lasers. 

“We’re going to help Tony shoot faster and surer,” Walker told them, handing out the vests. “Our only job is to not get hit.” 

The Avengers  _ dis _ assembled even more rapidly as Tony’s suit pieced itself together around him. He launched into the air and went on the offense, aiming and firing. But he was still too careful, so Walker pulled out a Nerf gun, equipped with suction cup darts – customized by Walker – and painted with ridiculous patterns. The best part was the insults written on the sides. He took aim and nailed him right on the shoulder. 

“Loser!?” Tony yelled, outraged.

Walker fired again, hitting his knee. Tony spun and fired, but Barnes tackled him out of the way.

“Hey!” Tony said, indignant. “That’s cheating!” Then fired at Barnes in retaliation. Barnes’ vest chimed to alert him of his fate, and Walker patted his back.

“You will not have died in vain,” he assured, as Barnes rolled off him. He took aim and shot Tony in the eye.

Tony went after Walker, who tucked and rolled, sprinted and flipped, turning on dimes and dodging by hairs. Tony’s shots got more focused, and Walker had to work harder, hiding and sneaking around the weight machines. He got Tony in the back once before being cut down himself, his vest singing his death song. He fell to the floor in a dramatic sprawl, making the most of it as Tony crowed in victory. 

Barnes sauntered over and hauled him to his feet, shaking his head. 

“Don’t encourage him,” he said, watching Tony’s laps in the air.

“It doesn’t take much,” Walker admitted, watching as well. 

Once Tony landed, they gathered around him, faces flushed and grins on their faces. Walker extended his arms. “Again?”


	17. Bureaucratic Bullsh*t

Walker’s six-month review with Nick Fury came far faster than he could’ve imagined. One minute he was dancing around sensitive egos and the next he was wrestling his phone out of Natasha’s grasp, Barnes pinning his legs to the couch. 

“I do not,” he gasped, “have a photo,” he dug an elbow between Barnes’ shoulder blades, “of you anywhere,” he wriggled, “on,” he stretched, “this device,” he said, snatching the offending machine from her conspicuously unmanicured fingers. A knock at the door interrupted Natasha’s lunge as Fury stepped into the room.

“Everything okay?” he asked, nonchalantly, leaning on the frame and watching the shenanigans. 

“Fine,” Walker said, smacking Barnes on the back to get him to move, which he reluctantly did. “What can we do for you?” Walker asked Fury, twisting to look at him straight on. 

“It’s time for your review,” Fury said, and Tony snorted. 

“It’s 7 o’clock on a Saturday,” he argued. “Besides, he’s still here, right? Isn’t that an automatic pass?”

“Pretty much,” Fury said, “but I’m interested in any areas of further improvement. Call me a perfectionist.”

“Boss is already perfect for us,” Barnes countered, and Fury gave him a level look.

“Your personal biases don’t count,” Fury retorted, pushing a hand against the door and gesturing for Walker to follow. “Let’s chat.”

Walker vaulted the couch and followed him from the elevator to the conference room. Fury turned and stared at him as soon as the door clicked shut.

“So?” Fury probed, folding his arms.

Walker thought about the prior months, the challenges and triumphs. A tiny smile curved his lips.

“I think they like me,” he said, and Fury sighed.

“Are you kidding me?” he said. “They actually  _ listen _ to you,” he emphasized. “Like you? I’d say so.”

“They’re getting better,” Walker reported, thinking of their progress. Just the other day, Steve had managed to avoid all but three shots fired by his very determined, and accurate, teammates. Tony was faster and more confident, and Barnes was keeping himself safe. 

“It’s apparent in the mission reports,” Fury pointed out, picking one up from the table. “ _ Mission Report #17: Took no casualties, no wounds. Eliminated thirteen hostiles and secured all hostages. Made it back in time for lunch.” _

“That was Jersey?” Walker asked, and Fury nodded. “They did good,” Walker added.

“Yourself included,” Fury replied. “You don’t seem to like missing out on the action.”

“I don’t,” Walker agreed, drumming his fingers on his thighs. 

“Do you have anything in particular to report?” Fury asked, and Walker shook his head.

“No, sir.” He stood up. “Just one question, though.”

“Fire away.”

“What is the policy on…relationships?” Walker inquired, innocent as a lamb. 

“With your team members?” Fury clarified, not sounding surprised. He had at least one working eye. Walker grunted. Fury responded, after making him wait a moment, “There isn’t one.”

*******

Barnes desperately wanted to know what Walker was grinning about when he passed him on his way to be interviewed by Fury. His thoughts were interrupted by the Alarm.


	18. Ambush

“The shipment departed a base outside Allos, France last night,” Walker told his team, using a laser pointer on the map. “They just bypassed Milan an hour ago.” He circled the city. They were in the conference room, having just gotten word of another Hydra operation.

“I want us to hit it before it enters the Ukraine.” He shook his head. “Too much political bullshit with that.” Natasha and Barnes nodded in agreement. “The convoy will be passing through this area,” he highlighted a remote area with a winding road, “and it’ll be a discreet location to take it down.” He clicked off the laser pointer.

Sooner than he had expected, they were coasting over the forests of Slovakia, camouflage rendering them invisible to the few scattered villages below. They were on target in record time, and Tony put the jet down in a small clearing. They disembarked into the field and briefly reviewed their plans before engaging the enhanced cloaking device on the jet and getting into position. 

Walker and Barnes crouched behind sizable trees; Natasha and Steve did likewise until Walker motioned for Steve to find a broader tree, to Barnes’ muffled amusement. Their birdies waited on a nearby hill and Clint scoped out a good sniper nest. They didn’t have to wait long before the rumble of the convoy could be heard through the trees. The trucks turned the corner and came into view. Walker waited until their position was right, then raised his rifle and fired, taking out the first driver. He had to scramble out of the way as the truck swerved towards his tree. Barnes followed up with the second truck’s driver as the rest of the convoy screeched to a halt, men throwing open the doors and piling out. Bullets started flying every which way. Hydra agents dropped like flies at first but wizened up and kept behind the shield their vehicles offered. They were pinned on both sides, and Walker had no compunctions about shooting out exposed ankles, but they weren’t lightly armed by any means, and gave it back with a vengeance. Their saving graces were their eyes from above, who methodically eliminated the men who were out of the ground teams reach. 

They were making good progress when Walker felt a burst of pain in his abdomen that took the strength from his knees. He sat down heavily, and Barnes flashed a glance at him in question. 

“You okay, Boss?” he asked, and Walker grimaced.

“Tripped.”

“Careful, Boss,” Tony chided, “Those tree roots’ll getcha.”

“Every time,” Walker replied, forcing himself to stand. He stiffly crouched behind the tree and surveyed the scene, then saw an opportunity. “Cover me,” he said, then stalked to the nearest truck, throwing one of the doors open and catching a Hydra operative by surprise. The surprise stuck to his face in death, and Walker moved to check the back of the truck, finding it empty. He heard Barnes’ approaching from behind, and together they cleared the next truck. Steve and Natasha joined them, and soon the scene was silent as the grave it was, not even the sound of birds to break it. When they searched the second to final truck, they found a single, unmarked wooden crate. 

“Wonder what it is this time.” Clint said, a leaf stuck in his hair. 

Walker made a motion to lift it when a pulse of agony made him gasp and grab the truck’s rear door as his knees threatened to drop him again. 

“Whoa, hey,” Barnes said, gripping his shoulders to steady him. 

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Tripped, my ass.”

Barnes glanced at Tony, then eyed Walker up and down, gaze latching onto the growing glistening patch near his left side. “Dammit,” Barnes said, scooping Walker into his arms and laying him out in the back of the van, despite his indignant yell. Walker would have protested more when his armor and shirt were peeled off, but his head was starting to spin, and he was just too damn tired to care.

“Shit,” Barnes hissed, then pulled gauze from somewhere and started gently dressing the wound. The cool air felt nice on his bare chest and he started to drift in the sensation of the breeze, eyes slipping…

“HEY!” Barnes snapped, firmly slapping his cheek. “Come back here.” He slapped Walker again until he reluctantly opened his eyes. “None of that,” Barnes said sternly, then returned to his work. 

“Get the crate to the jet,” Walker croaked. Then he realized something and started to sit up, but an unyielding hand held him down. He huffed as the thought threatened to slip from his mind. “Bury the bodies.”

He turned his head to see they glancing at each other. 

“How?” Tony demanded, but Walker was prepared.

“I packed shovels,” he said. “They’re with the miscellaneous gear in the back.”

“Seriously?” Tony said, and Walker fixed him with a genuine glare.

“Bury them.” 

“Yes, Boss,” Sam said, and half the team returned to the jet while the others started dragging bodies to one location and the trucks to the edge of the road. Barnes soon finished what he could do with Walker and slung his gear over his shoulder before lifting Walker again in a bridal carry. Walker blinked up at him, then rested his head against the hard wall of his shoulder. Barnes paused for a moment before carrying him to the jet and setting him up in the small medical bay with an IV and blood transfusion, done after a brief peek at his records. Sam returned soon to do a once over of what Barnes had done and found it satisfactory.

“Stay with him?” Barnes asked Sam, who agreed and set up in a chair next to his cot. 

Sam took the opportunity of a captive audience to tell entertaining stories from this deployment, ones that got a painful chuckle out of Walker. He did his best, but as time passed, the weight in his body grew. His eyes slipped shut to the sound of Sam begging him to stay awake.

*******

Burying the bodies was a pain in the ass, but a task finished soon enough. Now covered in both dirt  _ and _ blood, Barnes and the rest of the crew headed back to the jet. He should have known something was wrong when Walker fell over like that. He was far from a clumsy man. The sight of that much blood had made his heart clench in fear when he pulled off Walker’s shirt.

What had really gotten him though was the way Walker looked up at him with genuine trust in his eyes. Him snuggling against his shoulder was just another nail in Barnes coffin.  _ Majorly screwed. _

When they boarded the jet, they were met with the sight of Sam hovering over an unconscious Walker. Barnes dropped his shovel with a clang and ran to the side opposite Sam. 

“What happened?” he demanded, and Sam gave him a worried glance.

“I don’t know,” he said. “We were chatting one minute and the next he just passed out. Probably the blood loss, you know.”

Barnes swore, then turned to Tony. “Get us home. He needs care now.”

Tony didn’t argue with that and fired up the engines, launching them into the air the second after everyone was seated. Barnes stared at the heart monitor, watched for each peak. Steve leaned against him, lending his solid weight as a comfort, which it always was. He appreciated that about Steve. He knew when to talk and when to just sit there in silent support.

The flight back was tense, Barnes homed in on Walker as if he could keep him alive through psychic willpower. The medical team was ready on the launch pad when they arrived, and they hurried off with Walker strapped to the gurney. The sight did unpleasant things to Barnes mental wellbeing, and he stalked after them, not willing to be too far away. 

The waiting room was empty as he staked out a chair, glaring at the floor. Steve settled beside him. They sat patiently for news, for any information at all. It was a long wait.


	19. Get Well Soon

Walker awoke to a room full of glowering faces, arranged haphazard in chairs and couches around his bed. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Barnes drawled to his left, and he glanced over, blinking heavily. 

“What,” he said, flatly, unable to finish the sentence.

“You got shot, dumbass,” Tony chided, rapping twice on the bed rail in emphasis. 

“Right,” Walker said, remembering the fight. “Is everyone okay?” he asked, moving to sit up, expression worried.

“We’re all fine,” Barnes consoled, gently pushing him back down and checking his IV. Walker nodded and soon slipped back into a dreamless sleep.

*******

When he woke up next, it was just Barnes sprawled on the couch, mouth agape and snoring softly. Walker kept watch that night, eyes rotating between the door and his soldier. When Barnes awoke, a few hours later, Walker yawned.

“Your watch now,” he said, to Barnes’ consternation.

“You were supposed to be sleeping,” were the last words Walker heard before he drifted off. 

*******

He felt better on the third day and demanded, politely, to be discharged. The doctors tried to reason with him, but he was determined to be anywhere but that white box. Understanding that it was a losing battle, they secured a promise to have regular check-ins and to report if anything was “even remotely uncomfortable, period”. Walker lied his way through it and the doctors acknowledged this, but accepted it was the best they would get. It took longer than he would have liked, but he was finally released. 

Barnes was in the bathroom when he got the green light to leave, and he tried to escape without an escort, but the going was slow. He was leading himself along the wall when a smoky voice said behind him, “Going somewhere?”

Walker sighed. “Got a hot date. Why?”

Barnes snorted. “Lucky guy.” Walker shot him a glare over his shoulder before shuffling further down the hallway. Barnes took up a position beside him, hand on Walker’s lower back. 

“I’m fine,” Walker said, tone annoyed. 

“I’ve heard that before,” Barnes countered, pressing his hand more firmly for emphasis. 

Walker gave up and allowed it. He was too damn tired to care if they got looks as Barnes escorted him to the elevator. Walker let out a noise of surprise when Barnes hit the button for the lobby, and Barnes looked at him sideways.

“Who do you think tucked you in after you fell asleep at movie night?” Barnes asked, rhetorically. 

Walker flushed at the memory. He had woken up, safe and sound in his bed, having no recollection of how he got there.

“Thank you,” he murmured, and Barnes squeezed his hip. 

“No problem.” Barnes' voice was gentle, and Walker flushed again.

Barnes helped him into the basement, then to his loft, where he provided a boost onto the bedroll. Walker turned and, on a whim, used his legs to pull Barnes, who stood on the boxes, into an awkward hug. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, aware that Barnes had done more for him than he remembered, then let go. Barnes looked up at him, momentarily stunned, before patting his leg and descending the makeshift stairs. 

“Sleep tight, Boss,” Barnes said, and Walker momentarily worried that he had crossed a boundary, but the glance backwards that Barnes gave him assuaged that guilt. It was full of longing, and Walker’s breath caught on the returned feeling. He watched Barnes leave, aching inside, and the only thought in his mind as he curled up to sleep was:  _ You’re screwed. _


	20. Activated

Barnes hovered around Walker for the duration of his recovery, then stuck by his side after, having formed the habit. The doctors declared him healed after a few weeks, and he resumed normal activities, including combat and weapons training. The team seemed eager for his return, slapping him on the back and cheering him on as he tangled with Barnes on the mats. As usual, he lost, this time to a move that knocked his feet from under him and sent him to the ground, only to be caught inches from the floor by an arm under his ribs. Barnes, in the plank position above him, lowered him to the mat, and rolled off him, victorious but gracious about it for once. When Walker motioned to go again, he shook his head.

“Don’t push it, Boss.”

Walker found no support in the others and yielded, choosing instead to orchestrate a drill where a team with Steve sought to defeat a team with Barnes. It was entertaining on the sidelines, with the curses flying equivalent to the punches and kicks. Steve won by a margin, everyone collapsing to the ground after to catch their breath. 

Walker clapped. “Well done.” Sam flipped him off, to his amusement.

“Ready to run laps?” he proposed, and got a universal  _ no. _

Chuckling, he sent them to the showers and headed to the Avengers common space. He started chopping onions in preparation for dinner when he heard Barnes and Steve blunder into the room, laughing and play fighting.

“Didn’t have enough earlier?” Walker joked, watching them tussle with a warmth in his chest. 

“I’m getting my revenge,” Steve said, pinning Barnes to the ground, who cackled and kneed him in the stomach. Barnes miscalculated, though, and Steve collapsed on him like a bag of bricks, all but smothering Barnes under his weight. Barnes spluttered, flailing his arms, and Walker couldn’t help but dissolve into laughter, leaning on the counter for support. 

“Thanks Boss,” Barnes said grumpily, laying still with a huff. 

“Anytime,” Walker replied, returning to his task. Steve released his captive and helped him up, threatening to throw him again before retreating to the couch. Steve stared out the window at the start of another fall sunset.

“I already miss the haze of an August day in the city,” he said, legs held to his chest and head rested on his knees. Walker halted his motions to consider the view while Barnes moseyed over to inspect what Walker was doing.

“To be honest, I’ve always preferred colder weather,” Walker confessed, returning to his task. “In the summer, it’s a furnace from daybreak until nine, and it leaves me longing for a more benign…” As the words fell from his mouth, he turned towards Barnes and the sink, and the knife caught the light. He watched Barnes eyes go blank, then cold, and suddenly he was pinned to the fridge by his throat, knife clattering to the floor. The Winter Soldier stared him down, grip tightening. 

“Barnes,” Walker gasped. “You know me.” The fingers squeezed and black burst across his vision.

“ _ Barnes,”  _ he pleaded, and the Soldiers’ fingers stilled. The stranger cocked his head and examined Walker, unsure and suspicious because of it. 

“Barnes, it’s okay,” Walker rasped. “It’s okay.”

Walker saw Steve make a motion towards them and his glance gave him away, the Soldier turning to defend himself and both fists clenching hard. Steve threw up his hands and hurriedly retreated as Walker choked and kicked the fridge behind him. 

“Bucky,” Steve soothed. “Let him go. Let your  _ commander _ go.” 

The Soldier looked at Walker quizzically, not believing that this red-faced thing, helpless and gagging, was in control of him. Walker could make himself far from helpless, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt Barnes. Sparring was one thing but doing actual damage to the man was not something he was capable of. So he tolerated the strangulation and took a persuasive approach.

“Barnes,” he whispered. “You’re safe here. No one’s going to hurt you.”

The Soldier glowered.

“You’re in the Avengers Tower,” Walker continued. “In New York City. You were born in this city, do you remember?”

The Soldier scrunched his features and glared at Walker. It made his bones tremble. 

“You’re safe,” Walker assured, voice rough. “You’re with the Avengers and Hydra will never touch you again.”

At that moment, the rest of the team walked in, and when the Soldier spun and saw Natasha, a wire crossed in his brain and he stumbled, gripping the bridge of his nose. That must’ve been the start of a mental cascade, because when he looked Walker in the eye next, Barnes was back. And he was horrified.

He released Walker with a guttural yell, leaping back with his hands up, only to lunge forward and catch Walker on his way down to the floor. Walker coughed and coughed, sucking in large lungfuls of air as Barnes cradled him in his arms, the large man’s body shaking. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Barnes repeated, burying his face in Walker’s hair. Walker grabbed his thigh and squeezed in assurance, breath slowly returning to normal. The Avengers murmured about them, jockeying for a position to see if he was alright. Steve herded them away and made them start the movie picking process to distract them from the scene on the kitchen floor. 

Barnes was crying. Walker could feel tears on his scalp and the jagged contractions of the chest pressed against his. He slid his arms around Barnes and held him tight, which only made the tears flow faster.

“It’s okay,” Walker whispered, voice wrecked. “It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is,” Barnes whimpered, shaking his head. Walker gripped his face between his hands and forced him to look him in the eyes.

“Your hands but their orders,” he growled, wiping wet trails from Barnes’ cheeks. “We fought for evil men but that doesn’t mean we too are evil.”

Barnes used the eye contact as a lifeline and dragged himself out of despair. 

“Okay,” he acquiesced. Walker leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, making Barnes draw a sharp inhale of breath. 

“All is forgiven,” Walker declared, then pushed himself to his feet, extending a hand to Barnes. Barnes gave his hand a brief squeeze before releasing it.

Walker began collecting the ingredients for the meal. “Sear the meat?” Walker asked and Barnes fell quietly into his new task. Walker hummed as he prepared the vegetables, and the conversation in the living room grew louder as it became apparent that he was not in mortal danger. His song took on a note of the melancholy in his heart, because he knew Barnes would tear himself apart over this.

There was nothing he could do. 

*******

“It’s what you said,” Steve told him a few hours later as they lounged on the couches, movie and associated snacks thoroughly enjoyed by most. “Some of those words were part of his trigger.”

“The trigger that sets off the Winter Soldier?” Walker clarified, and Steve nodded.

“The combination of those terms and the knife must have flipped the switch. I’m surprised you got him back so quickly.”

“Yeah,” Natasha chimed in. “It usually takes around 24 hours in restraints to bring him back.” Walker’s jaw clenched at the image that evoked. “Of course,” she said, “That hasn’t happened in almost a year now.” She looked at Barnes directly, who seemed to wilt under the scrutiny. “You’ve gotten much better.”

“No better enough,” Barnes muttered, avoiding all eye contact. Walker reached out to pat his hand, but missed as the hand retreated to join the arms now folded across his chest. Walker didn’t like that he could almost hear the guilty thoughts spiraling in Barnes’ mind. It was time for show and tell.

“My main triggers are the smell of violets and the sound of deep, angry voices,” he shared, absentmindedly picking at a hole in his sweatpants. “The smell of singed hair and the sight of a braided whip will do it too.”

Barnes looked up and set his gaze three inches to Walker’s left. 

“I have the words,” Barnes said. “But the cold also gets to me. So does medical equipment, some phrases in Russian, and the smell of burning sage. I don’t know why for that last one,” he confessed, then his lips twisted, the wry smile cast in darkness. “I probably murdered someone while they burned it to ward off evil.”

“Or one of your captors liked to burn it,” Walker suggested. “You don’t need to fill in the gaps with bad. It benefits no one.” Barnes had no response to that.

“The color blue, certain shades, gets to me sometimes,” Clint told them, and Natasha draped her leg across his lap. 

“Small spaces,” Wanda offered, “and physical confinement.”

“I can never go to the Southwest, or anywhere like that,” Tony confided. “I can’t stand the smell of the desert. Or the look of it.”

“Pointe shoes,” was all Natasha said.

Steve had crunched himself into the smallest ball he could make, face serious. “The sensation of falling…..” he started, then trailed off. They waited. “I’m so helpless, like I can do all these wonderful things with this body, but none of it matters upon impact.”

“Steve,” Sam said slowly. “You jump out of airplanes on a regular basis.”

“And it’s the same feeling every time,” Steve said, eyes sad. Sam stared for a long time before the corner of his mouth began to lift. He started to laugh, a few tears escaping down his cheeks. Steve crawled out of his emotional hole to watch Sam with bewilderment. After a minute, Sam was able to calm down enough to clap Steve on the shoulder.

“Me too man,” he said. “Me too.”

“See?” Walker said, turning to Barnes. “We all have our triggers. You’re not alone in this.”

“You’re not the only one with bad reactions, either,” Clint added, glancing at Natasha, who pointed a finger at herself and nodded. The others agreed, thinking back to times they broke things, broke people, as a result of a flashback. 

“We understand, Buck,” Steve said, offering a small smile to his apprehensive friend. “More than you think.”

There was no group hugging, but it came damn close. 

*******

Barnes almost puked when he saw Walker’s throat the next day. The livid marks of  _ his _ fingers bruised that beautiful skin. Even the gaps between the metal plates were visible. He had to turn and leave the room. 

No one saw him for a whole week.


	21. Slippery When Wet

Walker was ready to go out and have fun, just him, a break from it all. He was showered, prepped, and all dressed up, but something nagged at him. He wouldn’t be able to enjoy his evening until he knew Barnes was all right, so he went hunting. Barnes’ floor was silent when he entered, no signs of living in the living room. He headed for the bedroom, pausing at the door. One knock.

“Barnes?” Walker called, and he heard rustling, then another door shutting. He opened this one, seeing that Barnes had retreated into the master bathroom. He crouched in front of that door, rapping his knuckles on it.

“Barnes?” 

“It’s not safe,” Barnes muttered, just barely loud enough to hear. 

“Why?” Walker asked, and Barnes gave a clipped laugh.

“I almost killed you!” he exclaimed, and Walker tested the doorknob. It was unlocked, but when he gave a gentle shove it met with resistance, likely Barnes’ back. 

“I triggered something and awoke a part of you that’s beyond your control. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“It could happen again,” Barnes pointed out, dejected. 

“And I could snap and kill you in your sleep,” Walker said quietly. “If you want to be a monster, then fine. But so am I.”

“You’re not a monster,” Barnes said, and Walker gave a cruel chuckle.

“My kill count has three digits, a good portion of those children.” He settled cross legged on the floor. “Do you know why I chose the last name Walker?” Barnes didn’t respond. “It’s short for my…nickname: Skinwalker. Want to know how I got that name?” He heard Barnes shift against the door. “We were ordered to infiltrate this enemy camp, a rival warlord, and take the shipment of diamonds they were protecting. Except we were fewer in number and outgunned. So, I went for intimidation. I stripped the skin from one of their soldiers and wore it as a costume. We walked right into that camp and back out without a fight.” 

“You were a child,” Barnes said softly, and Walker made a dismissive noise. 

“I was fifteen,” he said. “Didn’t you know right from wrong at fifteen?” 

“You were a child raised and brainwashed in violence,” Barnes said, tone intense.

“So were you,” countered Walker. “You think those electrical pulses didn’t reduce you to a blank slate, an adult child? Wasn’t that the whole point, that you were malleable and vulnerable to suggestion?”

Barnes said nothing to that, so Walker kept pressing. “Did you like it, the murder and the torture? Did you relish the sight of blood and the smell of death? Are your dreams of those midnight hours fond and full of longing? Would you do it again?”

“ _ No, _ ” Barnes hissed, then fell silent. 

“So what does that mean?” Walker prompted. He waited for a few beats. “Say it.”

“I’m not a monster.” His voice was thin and brittle. “Maybe,” he added.

“No, you’re not,” Walker encouraged, resting his head on the door frame. 

They held each other’s words in silence. 

“Let me in?” Walker asked, and Barnes’ weight slid from the opposite side. Walker pushed open the door and stepped in, seeing Barnes still on the floor, disheveled and gaunt. 

“You need a shower,” Walker stated, grasping his hands and pulling him to his feet. 

“You are welcome to join,” Barnes said weakly, attempting to regain his usual charm. Walker examined both him and the response that had leapt to the forefront of his mind. Was he ready for that? How would it change things? What were the repercussions? There were two routes he could see: the first was a safe country road, a steady 55 mph; the second was a short off ramp that you had to drive up backwards in rush hour traffic, where all the signs just said “ah, fuck it”. 

Both his heart and his mind said fuck it. 

“Would that help?” Walker asked, the delay in his response doing little to lessen Barnes’ reaction, who visibly swayed at the suggestion. Walker grabbed his hips to steady him while Barnes stared agape at him.

“Are you okay?” Walker asked, concerned, and Barnes nodded.

“Yes, fine,” he said, “and yes….please.”

Walker raised an eyebrow, then smiled. 

“Get in the shower,” he directed, taking off his own shirt. Barnes stared until Walker slapped his shoulder. “Now.”

Barnes tentatively removed his own shirt while Walker shamelessly stripped, throwing his pants and boxers to the side and stepping into the shower.

“Coming?” he asked innocently. He couldn’t hear Barnes’ muttered reply.

He turned on the hot water and heard Barnes step in behind him, shutting the door. Barnes tried valiantly to keep his eyes above the collarbone when Walker turned around but gave up when Walker erupted into laughter. Walker felt his hot gaze on the ridge of his hip and the swell of his thigh, the cut of his groin and the curve of his knee. 

“Like what you see?” Walker teased, and Barnes met his gaze with a storm in his own. He took one step closer, then another, waiting for Walker to retreat or put a halt to his progression. But no instruction came, and he stopped inches from Walker, mouth parted and fingers clenching. 

Walker held open his arms in a universal gesture. 

Barnes adopted Walker’s personal space as his own and pulled Walker into a kiss that lit the ends of his nerves on fire. He whimpered into Barnes' mouth and felt Barnes’ cock twitch in response. He reached out a few fingers and ran them down the length of his shaft, caressing the head and teasing the slit. Barnes groaned and deepened their kiss, tongue aggressive and demanding. His hands gripped Walker’s ass, fingers digging grooves into the sensitive flesh. Walker backed them into the wall, bracing himself before using the wall as leverage to wrap himself around Barnes’ hips. Barnes let out a soft sigh and took his mouth again, cock sliding, erect, against his own. He rocked against him with a gasp. 

Walker suddenly ran out of patience, pulling out of the kiss.

“Where is the lube?” he demanded, and Barnes stared at him momentarily before his face split into a grin.

“Getting greedy, sweetheart?” he asked, and Walker narrowed his eyes. 

“You want this ass, or not?” Walker said, and Barnes eyes went black as he lunged forward for another thorough kiss. He pulled away, biting at Walker’s bottom lip, then set his feet carefully on the tiles. He stepped out of the shower to grab a small bottle and a condom from under the sink and squirted a quarter sized dollop onto his palm. He moved the lube to a nearby shelf and advanced on Walker, breathing controlled. 

“Let me open you up, sweetheart,” he purred, and Walker shivered. 

Walker wrapped himself around Barnes’ waist again so Barnes could slide one finger, then two, in and out until he was relaxed enough for three. Walker got lost in the stretch and the feeling of Barnes wet skin on his own. Once Walker was begging for more, Barnes wrapped himself up and pushed inside, going inch by inch to make sure Walker could handle it. But Walker took it without complaint, throwing his head back and emitting a deep groan when Barnes bottomed out. Barnes gave him no respite, immediately pulling out, then thrusting back in with enough force to shove Walker up the wall half a foot. Walker spread around his cock as Barnes took him, relentlessly, hips driving forward and face buried in his neck. The hands on his hips shifted their angle, and suddenly he was seeing stars, letting loose a scream of pleasure. 

Barnes moaned softly as Walker continued to cry out, both overwhelmed with the incredible sensations. It didn’t take long for Walker to hit his peak and bring Barnes to his, Barnes spilling into him as he covered their abdomens in come. They gasped, pressed together, Barnes nuzzling at his neck. He was still half hard, and Walker laughed, his voice blissed out.

“Give me a few minutes and you can have me over that bench,” he said, pointing to the odd addition to the back of the shower. 

“Fuck,” was Barnes response, giving another slow thrust that made Walker hum.

“That’s the idea, love.” Barnes sighed and kissed him.

“Keep calling me that,” he directed, and Walker smiled. 

“Of course, love.”

The water was hot and Barnes' body was hotter, and Walker was ready to go after a brief make out session. Barnes flipped him over the bench so his hands and knees were on either side of its width. With a little extra lube and a fresh condom, he slid in deep with one thrust, causing Walker to drop his head and moan. 

“Fuck,” Barnes growled, leaning over him to press flesh to flesh, slick skin sliding against Walker’s. Walker keened when Barnes hit that place again, curling down to arch into the starburst of ecstasy. Barnes hit that spot over and over, laughing breathlessly when Walker started uncontrollably moaning his name. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Barnes crooned, hand migrating to Walker’s groin. “Come on my cock.” 

Walker did with a scream, pulsing onto the tiled floor. Barnes shifted his hips and began thrusting at a punishing rhythm, snapping hard against the backs of his thighs, before releasing himself into Walker with a snarl. He collapsed atop Walker, who reveled in the weight of him. They breathed together, a frantic gasping that evened out with time. Walker’s knees started losing feeling, so he reached out and tapped out on the bench, to Barnes amusement.

“Had enough, sir?” he teased, easing off him and helping him up. Walker turned and yanked him in for an enthusiastic kiss. 

“Not a chance,” he replied, gently guiding them into the shower. They took a moment to bathe, Barnes running soapy fingers through the long black strands of Walker’s hair and Walker massaging suds into the muscles between Barnes’ shoulder blades. Barnes sighed at the contact and Walker kissed the back of his neck. 

“Rinse off,” he said, and they finished their drawn-out shower. 

They shared a towel, getting distracted with drying each other off. 

“Today, Sergeant,” Walker ordered with a smile as Barnes got lost tracing his scars with his thumb. 

“Yessir.”

Walker started braiding his hair as they exited to the bedroom, still bare naked, when Barnes interrupted his motions and undid his progress. 

“I wanna see you on your back,” he said, voice husky. Walker pivoted and fell to the bed, face up and legs wide. Barnes gave a small groan at the sight, approaching slowly. Barnes leaned over him, tasting his mouth, then rotated him and slid him up the bed, moving with him. Settling between his thighs, Barnes moved slowly from there, kissing a line down Walker’s throat and across his collarbone, nipping at his chest and licking down his abdomen. Sitting up, his hand went to the nightstand and elicited more supplies that he used to prepare himself. He sat on his heels, all parts at attention, and stared down at Walker, whose hair spread like a fan across the sheets. 

“Goddamn,” Barnes said slowly, then laid flush atop and entered him. Walker rocked into his motions, alternating sighs and gasps. Barnes took his time, thrusts firm but teasing, daring Walker to get to the edge, but refusing to bring him over. Walker came along for the ride, tugging at Barnes’ hair, scratching lines along his ribs, cursing and praising his name. 

“Fucking hell, baby,” he slurred, back bowing into a fierce thrust. Barnes bit his shoulder, eliciting another groan. He seemed to like the talk, so Walker kept up.

“Come on love, take me.”

“Take me hard, make me scream.”

“Oh, baby, just like that, please…”

“Ah, fuck, baby,” he keened. “Mark me. Make me yours.”

He felt Barnes fingers clench around his hip bones, felt the metal dig in and the skin start to bruise. It felt  _ good. _

There was grunting and a gasp, then Barnes was spilling into him and Walker was crying out his name, his own cock spurting despite a lack of attention. 

They curled together, connected now through a tangle of arms and legs, on the other side of the massive bed. Barnes snuggled his nose into the mess of Walker’s hair, sliding a leg between the other man’s and murmuring his satisfaction. Walker didn’t remain conscious long in that embrace, drifting to sleep with a sense of comfort and joy. The last thing he felt before falling asleep was a gentle kiss on his temple. 

*******

Barnes couldn’t stop the rapid flutter of his pulse. The warm weight in his arms snored softly, hair disheveled and face peaceful. 

_ He feels safe enough to sleep. _

The emotions that overtook him were powerful, filling his stomach with butterflies and making him dizzy. His heart skipped a beat when Walker made a tiny noise, then shifted back a bit to snuggle more closely in against his chest. Barnes held him tighter, ecstatic, yet bewildered, at this turn of events. He had dreamed about this in lurid detail, but assumed it was something too good to ever happen to him. Yet here he was, cuddled in bed with his commander after  _ fucking him in the shower. _ Barnes replayed the memory of Walker’s head thrown back against the wall, Walker on his knees, back arched into his chest. The memory of his cries of pleasure echoed in Barnes ears, the sweetest sound. 

Barnes nuzzled the back of Walker’s neck, who hummed in sleepy contentment. Barnes screwed his eyes shut to halt the tears that were forming and focused on the smell of his own shampoo in the hair of the man he loved.


	22. Walk of No Shame

All conversation stopped when the pair walked into the common area, Walker wearing Barnes clothes and Barnes staring at Walker wearing his clothes. 

“Um,” was all Tony could say, gaping. Steve let loose a ‘nice!’ and winked at Barnes, who grinned in return. Walker rolled his eyes and headed for the coffee pot, feeling Barnes’ gaze return to his ass. 

“So….” Wanda started, glancing between them. “Congratulations?” 

“Thanks!” Barnes said, chipper as hell, a completely different person than he was less than 24 hours ago. 

“Was it good?” Natasha asked, and Walker turned and narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Of course it was good,” he answered for Barnes, who snickered. 

“How good?” she pressed. 

“We broke the shower bench,” Barnes admitted, and Walker spun around.

“We did?” he exclaimed, wracking his brain for the memory of it and found nothing.

“Yeah,” Barnes said. “Not too bad, but one of the legs is split.”

“I didn’t even notice,” Walker said with a shrug, turning back to stir sugar into the mug.

“That good, then,” Natasha said, giving Barnes a proud nod. 

Sam shook his head. “This is already way too much information.”

“Oh, it can get worse,” Barnes promised. “Do you want to know what he sounds like when…” Walker grabbed the nearest object and threw it, nailing Barnes in the side of the face. Lucky for Barnes, it was an oven mitt, but that got the point across just fine.

Sam shuddered and took a deep drink of his coffee, wishing there was something stronger in it. “Y’all overshare way too often,” he said. Steve shrugged. “You’re easy to talk to.” Sam looked mournful. “I’m scarred for life, is what I am.”

“Again…” Barnes started, and Walker stalked towards him as menacingly as possible while still carrying a cup of coffee. Barnes shut up. 

“Anyway,” Walker said, “What’s on tap for today?”

“Well, it’s Saturday,” Tony said, “in case you forgot.”

Walker rolled his eyes. “If it were Tuesday, I’d know what we were doing. I’m asking what all your plans are, you know, to be friendly.”

“It seems you’ve already gotten quite friendly enough,” Tony pointed out with a leer. A thought occurred to Walker.

“It is…okay?” he asked, gesturing between him and Barnes. 

Wanda gave him a tender look. “We’re happy for you,” she assured, and everyone nodded in agreement.

“We’ll tease the hell out of you,” Sam clarified. “But it’s cool. As long as you keep it out of the common area.” At Barnes' sad expression, he amended, “while we’re here.”

Walker snorted. “I think we can manage that.” 

“Unless you want company,” Steve said, deadpan. Walker dissolved into laughter at Barnes’ horrified face, as did Steve.

“Hands off my man,” he muttered, and Steve put his hands up in surrender. Walker felt a tiny thrill at the claiming. 

“At ease, soldier,” he said with a grin, flopping onto the couch. 

“Yes, sir,” Barnes purred, and everyone groaned. 

“Keep it in the bedroom,” Sam whined, covering his ears, as Walker shot Barnes a look. 

“Behave and it’ll pay off,” he promised, earning a slow scan of his body and a lusty grin. He gave a warning look and Barnes settled down, coming to join him on the couch and slinging an arm around his shoulders. 

Once the sexual tension eased, the Avengers debated their plans for the day, questioning the merits of museums versus zoos, or staying home in their pajamas and watching movies. 

“What about both?” Clint suggested. “Go out and stay in. Picnic in the park and then Jurassic Park?”

That idea gained traction, and everyone split to find real clothes. Walker went to push the button for the lobby when Barnes blocked him.

“I’m not done seeing you in my clothes,” he said, pulling him in for a kiss, then pressing the button for his floor. They rode up and Barnes demanded the role of undressing him, mouth trailing in the wake of the fabric’s removal. 

“If we’re quick…” Walker proposed, and Barnes lifted him and threw him on the bed. Bouncing before settling, he watched Barnes strip and grab the supplies. He was still fucked open from last night, so Barnes slid in without issue, palm cradling Walker’s face as he rocked in and out. The fire built in Walker’s belly as Barnes teased his nipples and stroked his cock, mouth wicked and hands hungry. 

“ _ Barnes _ ,” he moaned, gripping his hair and tugging him up for a kiss. 

“ _ Barnes _ ,” he groaned, louder, as he thrust against that sweet spot. Walker moved to meet every thrust, breath coming in short gasps. Barnes picked up the pace, slamming in hard enough to knock the headboard against the wall. Barnes slowly dragged his cock out, then snapped back inside. Walker screamed, staring into Barnes' eyes as he came. Barnes’ breath hitched, then he thrust hard, finding his release with a long, low groan.

They lay together for a moment, blissful and sweating. 

“Shower,” Walker said, but quashed Barnes’ hopeful look. “Separate. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Barnes sighed, but listened, letting Walker wash up first while he picked outfits. Walker donned the grey t-shirt and denim jeans, opting for no underwear but stealing a pair of socks. He put on his boots and found his wallet and gun, strapping the latter to his lower back and raiding Barnes’ closet for a leather jacket. Fall was just starting to rear its head and the weather channel claimed it was 50 degrees Fahrenheit. 

Barnes exited the bathroom while he was pulling on the jacket and froze, staring at Walker in the slightly oversized attire. 

“Fuck,” he said, walking over and dragging him into another kiss. 

“Get dressed,” Walker ordered, and Barnes gave a salute. 

They made their way down to the lobby where the rest of the Avengers awaited them with various expressions of amusement on their faces.

“Forget what you were doing?” Natasha asked with faux innocence, and Walker shrugged.

“Barnes is easily distracted,” he said, and Barnes pretended to take offense.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he grumbled, and Walker took his hand with an eye roll. Steve’s grin got wider when Barnes blushed at the touch. 

“Can we go now before I literally drown in hearts and rainbows?” Tony whined, and Clint nodded vigorously. 

They exited the Tower, pushing past the paparazzi loitering outside and making a break for the subway. Barnes’ smile brought a smile to Walker’s own face as their clasped hands swung in their whirlwind sprint. They managed to avoid running into anyone else, minus a few close calls, and were safely tucked into a train car in no time. Wanda giggled in her seat, ignoring the eyes on them. They hadn’t bothered to disguise themselves much, due to past experience of it never actually working. They just created their own little bubble, chatting about upcoming movies they were excited for.

“You always go for the action flicks,” Natasha complained to Clint. “Aren’t you sick of action? Don’t you just want to sit down and relax to a nice drama? Disconnect from our jobs for a bit?”

“Dramas are boring, and I love my job,” Clint declared, and the man beside him agreed.

“I hate my job, but I hate watching two people who never work out their shit even more,” he said, and Clint high-fived him. 

“Thank you!” 

Natasha rolled her eyes. 

The grandmother sitting next to Walker leaned in. “How long have you two been together?”

“Since yesterday,” Walker replied with a grin. She smiled back at him.

“Congratulations, honey,” she said. She looked over his shoulder at Barnes. “Take good care of him.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Barnes said soberly.

They disembarked at their stop, heading for their favorite sandwich shop and ordering their lunches. The shop owner came out to say hello, having become friendly with them over the past year. Some customers stared, but most were indifferent in the traditional New York way. Walker got the most stares out of all of them, being the unfamiliar one, and especially because he was holding the fearsome Winter Soldier’s hand and whispering into his ear like a lovestruck fool. Walker couldn’t care less, because Barnes squeezed his fingers every once in a while, and it sent tendrils of warmth from his heart through his chest.

_ I’m happy. _ Now  _ there _ was a thought.

Having acquired their sandwiches and said their goodbyes, they made their way to the park, moving as a wall of muscle through the crowds. Walker noticed he was pushed to the center of the pack, the Avengers arranged around him to keep an eye on the buildings, alleys, and passerbys. That warmth pulsed through him again, his fondness for them growing even more than it already had in the months since that first day. He was lucky, he knew that, and he drank in the comradery, the way Clint snuck his hand into Natasha’s and the way Sam eyed Steve’s. Walker pulled Barnes so he was behind Sam.

“Go for it,” he whispered, and Sam jumped guiltily, sneaking him a doubtful look. Walker gave him an encouraging shove at Steve. 

“Go for what?” Steve asked, supersoldier hearing defeating the purpose of whispering. 

Sam grabbed his hand in a flash of bravery, and Steve blinked in surprise, screeching to a halt. Sam looked terrified, but Steve just broke into a smile that shone like the sun. 

“I was too nervous,” Steve confessed, then kept walking, Sam dragged beside him. Wanda sighed, so Walker linked his fingers with hers too. Tony strode solo ahead, waving his sandwich in one hand while he ranted aloud to anyone who could hear him. Sam and Steve trailed behind him, emitting the appropriate noises at the appropriate times. They reached their destination, choosing an open, yet slightly secluded location to unwrap their sandwiches and chow down.

Walker sat cross legged, left knee knocking into Barnes’ right. Natasha and Clint argued about nothing and Sam and Steve talked about something. Wanda cleared her throat.

"Do you have any siblings?” she asked, then winced in the subsequent silence. “I’m sorry. I’ve been wondering. But you don’t have to…”

“One,” Walker answered. “A sister.” He was quiet for a while, chewing and thinking. “My warlord murdered her as a consequence for failing a mission,” he said. “I killed him for it, but I was too late to save her.”

The conversation lulled to nothing with that, until Clint piped up with another question. “What’s the thing you are most proud of getting away with as a child?”

Everyone had an answer for that. Sam and Steve were proud of sneaking out of church to play baseball, both giving each other a sappy look that earned dramatic gagging noises; Natasha was proud of stealing a doll from a mean girl; Clint was proud of hitting his first bullseye at age eight; Barnes was proud of not getting caught kissing a boy at the edge of the schoolyard; and Walker….Walker was proud of the time he gathered a whole bouquet of mountain flowers for his mother’s birthday.

“They were her favorite,” he said, his smile mimicking the one she had given him upon receiving the gift. Barnes and Wanda both leaned into him, and he felt cozy in the memory.

The conversation flowed from there and was only interrupted a few times by people asking for pictures. The Avengers were gracious about it, aware of their role in making the city feel safe. Barnes and Walker sat, fingers intertwined between them as Steve helped an older woman take a selfie of them to show to her husband, a WWII vet. 

“He’s going to be just thrilled!” she exclaimed, and Steve patted her on the back. 

“Tell him I said thank you for his service,” Steve said, and the woman beamed at him. 

They lounged in the grass and chatted until the shadows began to lengthen. Deciding movie night was fast approaching, they headed back to the Tower and threw on pajamas, Walker stealing more of Barnes’ clothes just because he could. Barnes sidled up behind him as he pulled on the shirt, kissing behind his ear and sliding his hands under the cotton.

“You glow in the sun,” Barnes told him, nose brushing at his hair as he traced whorls on his stomach.

“You quite literally shine,” Walker said, and Barnes laughed into his neck. 

“We must’ve been blinding,” Barnes said, but when they got to the common area, they found they hadn’t been quite blinding enough.

“Is the Winter Soldier Gay?” Tony bellowed in an announcer’s voice as they walked through the door, and Steve grinned. Natasha waved her phone at them. 

“Someone snagged photos of you two lovebirds in the park, and now the world is losing it’s collective shit.” 

“Good for them,” Walker said with a shrug, caring no more about the world than he had to. 

“There’s the spirit!” Tony declared, raising his glass. Clint bumped it with his water bottle to make it a toast. 

“You don’t mind being the love of the most notorious mass murder of both the 20 th and 21 st centuries?” Barnes asked, only half joking. Walker fixed him with a no-nonsense look.

“If we were in Africa right now, I’d ask you the same thing.”

“Such a beautiful pair,” Wanda said, deadpan, and Walker winked at her. 

“Damn right.” 

Tony and Clint took turns reading off the most entertaining comments on their photos and various related news articles while Walker set the oven to make pizza.

“I don’t know which one is hotter,” read the first one. Walker and Barnes both pointed at each other without looking, then laughed when they noticed. 

Natasha joined to help chop toppings.

“Who wears the pants in that relationship?” another person had commented, and Barnes scowled. 

“Neither,” Walker interjected. “We’re too busy having fun without them.” That wiped out Barnes' anger, who hummed and shamelessly examined Walker’s ass. 

“Wait, who even is this guy?” someone wondered, and Walker was very glad for it. He’d rather keep it that way, thank you very much.

“Why are all the hot guys gay!?!” someone else lamented, both Tony and Clint taking offense. 

The questions and comments went on, located on a spectrum from funny to deeply invasive. Walker wondered at people’s willingness to expose themselves in such a public and permanent way. He would never understand.

The pizzas were put together and popped in the oven, the movie started while they waited. They paused when the timer went off and dished out the hot cheesy goodness. They piled back onto the couches and resumed the film. By the time the credits rolled, Walker was out cold in Barnes lap, curled up like a cat, and Sam was snoring on Steve. Steve and Barnes exchanged warm glances before carrying their men to bed. Barnes tucked Walker into his bedroll and gave him a kiss on the forehead before calling it a night and going to sleep. 

*******

The knock on his door revealed Walker standing there, backpack slung over his shoulder and his bedroll tucked under his arm.

“The pipe over my bed is leaking,” Walker told him, and Barnes could see the dark patches on his shirt. “Could I stay here until it’s fixed?”

“You can stay here as long as you want, sweetheart,” Barnes assured him, stepping aside to allow him in. 

That was the last time they discussed living situations. Three weeks later, Walker stole the empty bottom drawer in Barnes dresser and added tea towels to the kitchen. Barnes celebrated the unspoken move in with a long, slow sex session that left Walker panting for air. Barnes rearranged them so Walker’s back was to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around him. The other man fell asleep almost instantly while Barnes savored the rise and fall of his chest, the flutter of his pulse under his fingers. Now  _ this _ was perfection. 


	23. Eureka

“I’VE GOT IT!” Tony yelled, scaring Wanda out of her dozing nap in the sun. He stood in the doorway to the common room, waving his hands.

“Got what, Tony?” Walker asked, looking up from the novel in his lap. 

“It’s a portal!” Tony declared, pointing the screwdriver at him. “Come see!”

He turned and power walked out of the room, and everyone followed him to his lab, intrigued. The lab was a disaster, as usual, with pieces and parts strewn about and old dishes stacked to concerning heights. On the main lab bench was the device whose components they had been collecting for months now, all put together for the first time. 

“How did you figure it out?” Steve asked, looking it over. 

“The key was four little connectors we were missing. It doesn’t snap together without them, but we haven’t come across them yet. So I whipped some up based on scans of the rest of it and my own genius, made from a special alloy that’s both superconducting, and super durable,” Tony explained, pointing to the silver shavings of the remaining alloy on his metalworking table. 

“You said it’s a portal?” Walker asked, eyeing the device with mild trepidation. 

“It makes portals,” Tony corrected, tapping its base with the screwdriver. “Tears holes in reality using high amounts of energy, concentrated by the crystal, to allow movement between distant points in space.”

“Like what Loki did,” Steve said, concern coloring his voice, and Tony’s face mirrored that sentiment.

“Exactly like that,” Tony said. “Except this doesn’t require gods and monsters. Regular old people could work this, given enough juice.”

“Bury it,” Walker said, and everyone looked at him in surprise. “If anyone gets their hands on this and figures out how to work it, this could be devastating.” 

“No worries, Boss,” Tony said, patting the lab bench. “This baby’s a bitch and a half to assemble, let alone get it to work.”

“I imagine Hydra could get it to work,” Barnes muttered. There were several nods of agreement.

“I’ll take it apart,” Tony conceded, holding up his hands in surrender. “Store the pieces in the vault, nice and safe.”

“I’d prefer it destroyed,” Walker said, but Tony shook his head. 

“I’ve never seen technology quite like this, Boss,” he admitted. “I’d like to at least spend some more time looking at the parts. Maybe figure out some things in terms of energy transduction and manipulation of the properties of spacetime.” He waved his hands. “You know, little things.”

Walker sighed. It was a bad idea, and he said as much, but there was enough disagreement that he let Tony keep his pet project, under the promise that he’d keep most pieces in the vault at any given time.

“Full security protocols,” Walker demanded. “No one in or out of that vault except you.” 

“Yes, Boss,” Tony said, and Miss Friday agreed to facilitate both network-connected and localized surveillance of the vault. 

“I’ll put up more cameras and sensors tonight,” Walker said, a tinge of unease still turning his stomach. They dispersed, Steve, Natasha, and Clint staying to chat with Tony about the implications of this device, while Walker and Barnes headed for their floor. They said nothing in the elevator, just held hands, and Walker grabbed the extra security equipment he kept stashed in his drawer. Barnes watched him from the doorway.

“That portal makes you nervous,” he observed, counting the cameras Walker pulled out from under his socks. Walker shrugged.

“I see the worst outcomes in my mind, I cannot help it.” 

“That keeps you alive,” Barnes said.

“That keeps you scared,” Walker countered. “That gives you nightmares and a fast heartbeat in harmless situations. I keep hoping that someday I’ll be wrong,” he said, shutting the drawer and standing, “but I have yet to be.”

“Let me help,” Barnes said, so Walker used his expertise to plant the cameras out of direct view, but with a clear enough line of vision to serve their purpose. It made Walker feel slightly better once everything was in place, but the edge of nerves kept his mind running as they made their way back to their floor. In an attempt to distract him, Barnes pinned him to the door and kissed him within an inch of his life, sliding his tongue into Walker’s mouth and his thigh between Walker’s legs. It worked, and Walker found himself face down in the bed in no time, screaming Barnes’ name. They curled up together afterwards, and the warm embrace finally brought peace to Walker’s mind. Everything would be alright. 

He dreamt of flames. 


	24. The Birth Day

Walker awoke with a wounded noise, bolting upright and close to hyperventilating. His breath slowed as he surveyed the room around him, Barnes’ now alert but relaxed form in the bed beside him, the sunlight peeking through the curtains. He was in the Tower, with Barnes and a team he was fond of.  _ Safe,  _ he reminded himself, squeezing the comforter balled up in his fists. Barnes just watched him, giving him space to breathe and think, and Walker loved him for that. No hovering, no pitying expressions, just good old fashioned companionship. A partner to help you bail out the water in a storm.

His reverie was interrupted by a knock at the bedroom door. It opened, Steve sticking his head in without waiting for an answer.

“Happy birthday…” he trailed off, brain registering Walker’s presence. “Oh, oops.” he said, starting to retreat. Walker waved at him to stay, rolling his eyes.

“Not like it’s a secret,” he said, then processed what Steve’s words. He turned to Barnes. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday!” 

“It’s not, technically,” Barnes said, and Steve shook his head. 

“Happy birthday to you too!” Steve added, and Walker looked between the two of them, lost. 

“It’s the Birth Day,” Barnes explained. “Instead of celebrating all the different birthdays with their various negative associations and ambiguous dates, we just throw one big party on a day of our choosing and call it a year.”

“That’s...adorable,” Walker said, then scowled. “I don’t have any presents to give. Why didn’t you give me a heads up?”

“We don’t do presents,” Steve said. “We save that for Hanukkah and Christmas.” 

“Huh,” was all Walker had to say to that. He realized he was naked, the sheets barely keeping him decent. Steve was determinedly making eye contact, fearing retribution if his gaze dipped. 

“Sorry!” Walker said, pulling the sheets higher. Steve blushed.

“No worries,” he muttered, and Barnes snickered.

“Hell of a sight, huh?” he teased, making Steve’s ears even redder. 

“I’m going to go help Sam with...something,” Steve said, then made his escape. They heard the front door slam shut behind him as he fled. 

Walker sighed. “I never meant to turn into the team harlot,” he said mournfully, and Barnes almost rolled onto the floor in his hysterics. 

“Such a slut,” Barnes gasped, holding his sides. Walker leveled an unimpressed look at Barnes that did nothing to subdue him. 

“I’m going to shower,” Walker said with a huff, shedding the bed sheet and fetching clean clothes for the day.

“Funny, because so am I,” Barnes said, rising as well. That was not the only part of him to begin rising, and Walker ran a hungry gaze over his thickening length. 

“This might become a problem,” Walker said, slowly approaching Barnes, whose eyes feasted on his bare form. “If you start getting hard at the thought of showering, you’re going to end up in an uncomfortable situation someday.”

“Worth it,” Barnes said without hesitation, and Walker grinned, lifting a hand to run his fingertips along Barnes’ side, eliciting a slight shiver that made his heart beat faster. Barnes gripped his hips and pulled him in, dropping his head to catch Walker’s mouth with his. The kiss was long and delicious, ending only when Barnes got desperate and broke the kiss to drag him to the bathroom. Having been tested and cleared by the medical staff, Walker took full advantage of the situation. Backing Barnes into the wall, he dropped to his knees and began teasing him mercilessly, tiny licks and brushes driving Barnes to the edge of madness. Walker lapped up the precome and Barnes moaned, head slamming into the wall. 

“Careful, love,” Walker crooned, “Don’t want to hurt that pretty little head of yours.”

He felt fingers in his hair, then a firm tug forwards, his nose hitting the shaft of Barnes’ cock. Laughing, he licked up to the head, and then swallowed him down, to Barnes’ relief. He could take it all, and he continued to do so, sliding up and down and humming to add the sensation. Barnes groaned and arched his back, thrusting further into his throat. Walker worked him over until he cried out, filling Walker’s mouth and slumping against the tiles, chest heaving. 

Walker spit, then grinned up at him, dark eyes liquid with lust. He slowly rose to his feet, stepping into Barnes’ space and giving him a long, slow kiss. Barnes gripped Walker’s cock, hand deliberate as he stroked him. Walker made a choked noise against his lips and dropped his forehead to Barnes’ shoulder. His hips rolled rhythmically in time with Barnes’ motions, soon calling out as he spilled down Barnes’ thigh. They shared a few more lazy kisses before washing in earnest and donning clean clothes.

When they walked into the common room, they beheld a cheerful disaster, party streamers strewn about the floor, an excess of balloons crowding the ceiling, and a half-empty bowl of Reese’s pieces on the table. 

“Happy Birth Day!” everyone shouted at their entrance, and Walker chuckled. 

“Happy Birth Day to you all as well,” he said, and they grinned at him. 

“I’m 23,” Clint declared, and Tony cackled. 

“Then I’m 12,” he said, and Clint made a move to confiscate Tony’s beer, who swatted him away.

“35,” Walker said, and Barnes’ head whipped to stare at him. The team looked surprised. Walker raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Really?” Wanda asked, examining him. He shrugged.

“It happens.”

“I thought you were younger than me,” Barnes admitted, and Tony laughed.

“Aaaaaand Barnes discovers an age kink!”

Walker made a face at Tony. “I’m not that old.”

“You’re now the second oldest Avenger, after me,” Tony told him, then paused. “Well, Bruce has a year on you, but I don’t know if he counts himself as an Avenger anymore.”

Walker sensed a sore spot, and didn’t pry, choosing instead to grab a roll of tape and start attaching the streamers to the wall. The colors of the decorations were all over the place, shades of purple clashing with tangerine and magenta. Baby blue disagreed with crimson, and the Avenger’s-specific party favors did nothing to help the mess. Even Sam had cutouts of his wings that he hung on the windows. 

“I wonder what Boss’s stuff would look like if people knew more about him,” Clint wondered aloud. The room went quiet as everyone thought, then Steve piped up.

“The Grim Reaper,” Steve said, “with a scythe and robe and such.”

“Badass,” Clint said, and Barnes nodded.

“Not bad.”

“We will have to do that though, won’t we?” Walker asked. “Go public. Officially.”

Natasha shrugged. “Eventually. But there’s no rush.”

“We should start at least thinking about it,” Walker said, and the others agreed. 

That issue settled, they began bickering about who had the coolest decorations.

“Mine’s just, like, my arm and a red star,” Barnes said, unimpressed.

“I’ve got bows with purple arrows, and a hawk!” Clint exclaimed, and Steve held up a shield. 

“Still the coolest,” he declared, making the others groan. “It’s a classic!” 

Tony changed the subject to avoid repeating that debate, and they finished decorating the room. Video games, movies, and a few rounds of paintball were on the docket for the day, and the Avengers got to it, flipping on the television and selecting Mortal Kombat. 

The contest was fierce, the loser passing off the controller to another and the victor earning bragging rights until they fell. There was much impalement, evisceration, beheading, and removal of spines, to the unfettered glee of the observers. 

“FATALITY,” Steve bellowed, causing a cascade of laughter from those around him. Walker used his shirt to wipe his eyes.

“Who knew you were filled with such bloodlust?” Walker said, earning a “ _ hah _ ” from Barnes.

“He hides it well, but there are few things he loves more than taking out a Hydra unit,” Barnes said, drawing a line across his throat. 

“Kinky,” Sam deadpanned, eliciting another round of laughs.

The day progressed, with popcorn popped and survival tips flung at the horror movie cast on the screen. In the gym, Clint took care to shoot a perfect smiley face on Walker’s back, while Natasha repeatedly nailed Barnes in the ass, earning appreciative whistles from her partner when Barnes’ evasive maneuvers made the shots difficult. Steve came out the dryest of them all, which made Walker proud. He patted Steve on the back on their way to the locker room.

“Nice dodging, there,” Walker said, and Steve threw a thousand watt smile at him.

“Thanks, Boss!” he said. “And thanks to you, too. It’s been what, three months since I’ve taken a bullet?” 

“Almost,” Sam said, distinctly remembering having to care for a grumpy, bed bound supersoldier for the few days it took him to heal up.

They separated to bathe, Barnes sneaking into Walker’s shower, but behaving himself after a stern look. They chatted through their post-shower rituals, Walker letting Barnes comb out his hair while Sam trimmed his beard. They returned to the common area afterwards to order dinner from several of their favorite restaurants. As they waited, Tony held up a hand.

“I have a surprise,” he announced, and Wanda gave him a look.

“I thought we weren’t doing presents?”

“Tough shit,” Tony said, then fetched a box he had stashed inside the entertainment center. Placing it on the table, he opened it up and passed around smaller boxes to each of the Avengers, with little ribbons and bows of different colors. “Open them!” he said, excited, and the others obliged.

Inside was a sleek wristband, and when they all lifted them out of their boxes, Tony began to explain.

“They’re a combination tracker, communicator, watch, and vitals monitor,” he said. “When they’re paired with those ear buds, you can talk with someone through theirs. They’re everything-proof and their range is the whole freakin’ planet. You could probably even get a signal in space.” He paused, contemplating how to test that. “It’s solar operated, and most importantly, it’s comfortable!”

Walker slipped it onto his wrist, rotating it back and forth to assess the fit. It was perfect, of course, and lit up with the time when tapped. Walker removed one of the ear buds from the box and slipped it into his ear. Barnes did the same, examining the wristband for a microphone.

“You have to link them first,” Tony said. “They’re already all connected, but to actually talk to someone, you have to activate the connection.” He raised his wristband to his mouth and said, “Walker,” then, “Boss, can you read me?” 

Walker heard his voice twice, once through the device in his ear, crisp and clean. 

“Nice,” he said, and Tony radiated sunshine as the rest of the team complemented its design and functionality. 

“Keep the ear buds safe in their case,” Tony reminded them, waving his. “They are tough as anything, but easy to misplace.” Walker tucked his into the case and slipped it into his pocket. 

Dinner came, and the conversation shifted, then shifted again, talking about family, hobbies, exes, and embarrassing stories. 

“I fell for it,” Walker admitted, leaning back into Barnes’ chest. They were all sprawled about the couches, various drinks in hand. “He said it with such seriousness that I didn’t want to run the risk of making a fool of myself by ignoring his advice, but ended up doing so anyway.” 

“How bad?” Clint asked, sipping his beer.

“I showed up shirtless, in warpaint,” Walker said, “And they actually laughed.” The Avengers chuckled at the image. “Mind you, they are stoic people, so for them to break that…” 

“Really bad, then,” Clint answered, grinning. 

“Incredibly.”

The night flowed into ‘not poker’, then ‘would you rather’, everyone discovering that Steve would rather eat snails than give up his motorcycle.

“I’d do worse,” Steve muttered, and Barnes gave Walker a significant look.

The evening continued into bastardized board games and minor friendly fist fights over cards and positions. It wound up with Steve wrapped around Sam on the couch, with Wanda, Walker, and Barnes snuggled on the floor. Clint and Natasha leaned against each other while Tony pretended to be offended by being the odd man out.

“Go home to your wife,” Walker ordered, and Tony cackled, downing his drink. 

“Yessir!” 

The rest of them lounged about, not saying much but not minding, either. Walker ran his fingers through Wanda’s hair while Barnes traced his thumb over Walker’s hip bone. Sam fell asleep in Steve’s embrace, who rose to bring him to bed. Natasha and Clint departed soon after, citing an early wake up, leaving the trio alone in their warm silence.

“Thank you,” Wanda whispered after a while, voice vulnerable. 

“For what?” Walker asked, and she pressed into his touch.

“For making us your family, not your army,” she said, and a soft feeling flooded Walker’s body. 

“You all deserve nothing less,” he said, smoothing her hair away from her face. 

“Thank you, though,” she insisted. “It could’ve gone another way.”

“I’m glad it didn’t,” he said, and Barnes hummed in agreement. They laid there until blinking became too heavy and limbs felt an almost impossible inertia. Helping each other up, they set about tidying the room before parting ways and heading to bed. 

It was a happy birth day.


	25. Ready or Not

Walker sat at the counter, shuffling through the papers of the file. Photographs and redacted reports, thin evidence on which to draw a shaky conclusion. But there wasn’t much else to go on, and the threat of the outcome overshadowed his doubt. At worst, it was a trap, and his team would be prepared for it. At best, they would save the city and prevent thousands, if not millions of deaths. It was a no-brainer. But still, a tingle of unease settled at the base of his spine.

“Babe,” Barnes interrupted, and Walker turned. Barnes strode forward, stopping in front of him, body tense. Walker looked at him with concern. 

“Babe, I can’t wait any more.”

His unease was forgotten in a thrill that made his stomach clench. “Wait for what?” he asked, voice coy. Barnes closed the space between them and slid between his legs, pressing him into the granite. Barnes cupped his jaw in both powerful hands, the temperature difference an interesting sensation. He dropped his gaze and ran a thumb along Walker’s bottom lip, biting his own. Walker gasped quietly, and Barnes eyes locked with his, irises all but gone. 

“This,” Barnes said, claiming Walker’s mouth with a kiss that brushed the surface, then deepened with a mutual groan. Barnes tongue swiped inside and tangled with his, exploring as his body pressed unrelentingly into Walker’s. Walker dug his fingers under the thin cotton of Barnes shirt and slid up his sides, eliciting a shiver and moan. He nipped at Barnes lip, gripping his waist and pulling him to fill the breath of space between them. Barnes ground against him with a twist of his hips and Walker gasped into his mouth. 

“Feel that?” Barnes purred and Walker couldn’t help the whimper that left his lips when Barnes ground against him again. “That’s for you, if you want it.”

Boosting himself up on the counter, he dragged Barnes in with his thighs and devoured his mouth, leaving no room for second guessing. “Mine,” he whispered, weaving a hand through Barnes hair and pulling, drawing out a low growl from the supersoldier, who gripped his ass and lifted him into the air.

“ _ Mine _ ,” he snarled, carrying him to the couch and sitting him on it before kneeling between his legs.

“Fuck,” Walker moaned as Barnes licked up his throat, biting at his ear. 

“Yeah, baby,” Barnes murmured, “tell me how it feels.”

Then he slipped out of Walker’s grasp and undid his commanders’ belt, tugging down his pants and boxers. Walker cried out when Barnes took him in his mouth, overwhelmed at the sight of him with his lips around Walker’s cock. He sucked at the head, then swallowed deep, teasing and testing as Walker tried his best not to thrash. The sounds Barnes pulled from him were unholy, but the experience was divine.

It did not take long for Walker to come, pulling at Barnes hair in warning before spilling onto his capable tongue. Barnes drank it like water in the desert, making Walker moan weakly again. Barnes grinned up at him, eyes just about black, then stripped him of the rest of his clothing and tossing it on the floor.

“My turn,” he said, undressing himself, and shook his head when Walker made a move to get on the floor. “No, sweetheart, I want  _ you. _ ”

Walker let out a whine. He was too far gone to care. Barnes grin was wicked as he reached into the side table for a stashed bottle of lube and a condom. He loomed over Walker, who laid back and spread his legs. 

“Perfect, baby,” he crooned. “You know just what to do for me.”

He slid a finger inside Walker, who bucked into it, relishing the intrusion. One finger became two, then three and Barnes worked him open with steady thrusts. Soon, he was begging for Barnes against his mouth, and Barnes couldn’t resist any longer. Withdrawing his hands, he filled his palm with a hefty dose of lube and slicked himself up, tossing the bottle nearby on the floor. 

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, eyes boring into Walker’s. 

“Please,” was all Walker could say, and Barnes pushed in. Walker stretched around him, quickly filled, but Barnes had more to give. Gasping, Walker took his whole thick length, crying out when he hit the deepest points and landed flush against his thighs. Barnes buried his face in Walker’s neck and rocked gently, in and out. Walker gripped Barnes back, knowing he had to hold on for fear of drowning in the feeling of it. Barnes rocked again, and again, then picked up the pace, setting a steady rhythm that hit Walker hard but gentle. 

Walker was a mess, moaning and arching as Barnes thrust into him, making noises he would never admit to and a facial expression that seemed to drive Barnes close to madness. 

“Fuck,” Barnes groaned. “You’re so fucking hot.” 

Walker could only moan weakly into his ear and Barnes gripped his hips with additional fervor, driving deep and making Walker’s back arch in pleasure. His whole body was alive with a sensation of bliss, and he couldn’t believe how good Barnes was at bringing him to the edge of insanity. Walker slid fingers into Barnes hair again and pulled him in for a tender kiss, which set Barnes on fire. Barnes tilted his hips and thrust down, and Walker’s world exploded. He screamed, spine leaving the couch and eyes screwed shut. Barnes did it again and Walker writhed, gasping and whimpering, fireworks behind his lids. Again and again and again he made a mess of Walker, who dug furrows into Barnes' back and cried out so loud he was sure they’d be caught. No one came bursting in, though, which was a blessing, because with the next thrust Walker came with a shout, painting their stomachs with come. Barnes moaned, loud and low, then Walker felt him release inside him. Barnes collapsed on top of him, coming just short of crushing him, and Walker hummed in happiness, safe and content. 

Barnes nuzzled his throat with a chuckle as Walker’s eyes remained closed. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said, and Walker allowed a lazy grin to bow his lips. 

“Bend me over, Sergeant,” he encouraged, and Barnes’ breath caught. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, low, and Walker laughed. Before Walker could gain his bearings, though, Barnes had swapped out the condom and draped him over the edge of the couch, pushing inside again. Walker fell into the rhythm of a nice, slow fucking, cock still limp but body alight with sensation. He loved the feeling of Barnes inside him, above him, and couldn’t get enough of the grunts and moans anchored in Barnes' broad chest. Barnes came again with a gasp, draping himself over Walker and panting. By then, Walker was half hard, but gave him a few minutes before removing the rubber and asking, “One more time?”

Barnes let out a punctuated laugh, hauling Walker upright and spinning him around. A thorough kiss brought Walker to full attention, and he shoved Barnes back against the couch and knelt on the floor, rolling the condom on with his mouth. Barnes gripped Walker’s hair and moaned at the sight, bucking into his mouth as he hit the base. Standing, he spread his legs on either side of Barnes and straddled him. Sinking down on his cock, he threw his head back and sighed deeply. 

“Yeah, baby,” Barnes murmured. “Take me.”

Walker did, riding up and down, thighs flexing under Barnes’ hands. He twisted occasionally to get a groan out of Barnes, squeezing and sliding to make him shudder. There was swearing, sweating, and grabbing, then they were both coming, Barnes' hand on his cock and Barnes’ head thrown back on the couch. 

Walker curved into Barnes as they breathed together, recovering their normal heartbeats. Barnes slid his arms around him and held him tight, and Walker hummed in satisfaction. 

“Okay?” Barnes asked, which earned a slightly unhinged laugh from Walker.

“Not too bad,” he said, to Barnes’ amusement. 

Walker reluctantly got off Barnes cock and felt come slip down his thighs. Barnes gripped his hips to prevent him sitting so he could watch the white liquid trace a path across his skin.

“You like that?” Walker asked, intrigued, watching Barnes watch him. 

“Apparently,” Barnes muttered, dragging a thumb through the stream. 

“You like marking me,” Walker observed, a little thrill running through him. He shouldn’t like that, but he shivered at the thought.

“That way you don’t forget.” Walker kissed him, sweet and slow. 

The Avengers alarm went off. 


	26. The Resistance

Walker and Barnes were the last into the conference room, looking like a collective disaster. Their mussed hair and wrinkled clothes earned them amused glances, but everyone held their tongues to hear the emergency. 

Walker pulled up the bulletin from Fury and read aloud, “Terrorist plot for Barcelona. Alien technology.” 

This could be it, the purpose of the advanced technology in the file he had been reading before…

He glanced at Barnes.  _ No time to think about that. _

He straightened and addressed the team. “Your job is to make sure that no one, besides the terrorists, gets hurt.”

“Wait, you’re not coming with us?” Tony asked, bewildered, and Walker shook his head.

“I am banned from entering Spain,” he said, not offering any additional details, regardless of the pleas of his team. “I apologize, but I’ll be here watching everything and helping when I can.” 

“I want that story someday,” Tony demanded, and Walker smiled with a shrug.

“Maybe.”

They geared up and boarded the jet, Barnes hesitating at the loading bridge. Walker walked up to him and rocked onto his toes to give him a kiss. He heard wolf whistles in the background but didn’t care much when Barnes pulled him close and deepened the kiss. 

They pulled apart when Steve yelled, “We’re wasting fuel!” Barnes reluctantly released him and made his way up the gangplank. Walker waved them off, heart in his throat, praying they would come back safe. 

*******

The team had been gone 3 hours when Miss Friday alerted him to the helicopter landing on the Tower pad and intruders in the lobby. He pulled out his phone and pressed the panic button Tony had installed months ago, pocketing it and racing towards the nearest weapons stash. Pulling on armor and selecting his guns - knives already strapped - he slipped an earpiece in and asked Miss Friday for an update.

“The top team is moving down and the bottom up,” she said, voice tinged with worry. “If I had to guess, they are headed for the vault.” 

“I would bet on that guess,” Walker said, shutting the closet door and heading in that direction. He could feel his heartbeat all the way in his toes, but his breath remained the even flow of a professional. He took the stairs, clearing each corner as he made his way to the 35 th floor. He hoped with everything he had that the Avengers would make it back soon, though he wondered if they’d even be able to land the jet with the helicopter in the way. 

_ I guess it depends on how long I can hold them. _

His breath was still even when he reached his destination and he blessed Barnes for getting him into the best shape of his life. That thought sent a brief pang of sadness through him, and he shoved it away.  _ No time for that. _ The vault room itself was not easily defensible from the inside, but there was only one entrance, plus the elevator.

“Miss Friday, can you stop the elevator?” he requested, and she obliged. Now there was only one entrance, and he could cover it well enough from behind Tony’s ridiculous, but now lifesaving, new model of bullet proof desk. That man’s foresight was eerie on occasion.

Walker crouched, rifle propped in a snipers position on the top of the desk. Eyes through the sights, he waited. One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four breaths…. sixty-two breaths…

_ BANG.  _

The door to the stairwell flew open and a grenade sailed through the air. Walker snatched and returned it, ducking while it went off just below the eye level of the first combatant. He lost both of those eyes and a bit more off top, dropping to the floor. The next guy stepped over him and Walker put a bullet through his neck, and through the forehead of the next one. They started coming faster, though, pouring out of the doorway, firing in his direction as soon as they came into view. He took cover behind the desk, periodically popping out to take his lethal shots. They pushed towards the vault door and he threw a grenade of his own, sending two unlucky souls down. He fired as rapidly as he could into chests, throats, temples, and thighs, cutting down soldier after soldier until the room was filled with only the echoes of combat.

He peered around the desk, surveying the carnage before reloading again.

“Well done, Boss,” Miss Friday congratulated. “Just be aware that the other squads are almost here.”

He got up and set a trap, a grenade hooked up to the stairwell door. 

“Miss Friday, can you turn out the lights and black out the windows?” he asked.

“How much?” she asked, and he replied, “Leave just enough light to see outlines.”

“Yes, Boss,” she said, and the room descended into twilight. 

He didn’t hear their boots on the stairs, but he did hear the grenade go off, as well as the screams accompanying it. He shot down the first man who wasn’t hit and his backup, but then the strategy employed before lost its feasibility. They spilled into the lobby, and he knew his rifle was now a liability. Unsheathing his favorite knife, he jumped over the desk and rushed the closest man, stabbing him in the abdomen, twisting and pulling horizontally. He danced in this way, dodging pointed weapons and sliding his blade where it was soft. One opponent caught on and abandoned his own rifle for a knife, and they engaged in a short battle. Walker was able to glide his knife through the man’s jugular, but as he went down he carved a long line through Walker’s right thigh. It lit up like fire and he hissed, but there was no time, a bullet whizzing past his ear. He rolled and came up on his knees, burying his blade in his femoral artery. The man howled, alerting his comrade, and Walker’s luck ran dry. 

That soldier held a gun designed to take down Steve and Barnes, able to pierce anything. Walker threw his knife and split his windpipe, but not before he got off two shots. Walker didn’t feel much as he watched the man fall, just like he’d been punched in the chest so hard he could feel it in his back. Another soldier came up and put his gun to Walker’s head, but one of his comrades pushed it away.

“Don’t waste the bullet,” his comrade said. “He’s dead. He just hasn’t realized it.” The remaining operatives entered the vault room unopposed, and Walker could hear them planting explosives around the vault door.

_ I always thought death would hurt more.  _ And then it did, suddenly, with a rush of agony. He collapsed, face pressed to the carpet, breath now coming in short, painful gasps. He could feel the blood running from his chest, his back, his leg.  _ No, not like this. Not as a failure. _ But he couldn’t move, could barely keep his lungs moving. There was nothing he could do as they removed their machine parts from the vault and returned to their helicopter, traipsing past his prone form with minimal interest. They left the bodies, and through the growing fog Walker realized that identifying them would likely be useless.  _ You failed, and they’ll have little, if anything, to go on.  _ He could hear Miss Friday speaking but couldn’t understand the words. The windows lightened to let in the sun, and he turned his face to the warmth as he quietly slipped away.


	27. Love Is Not Stronger Than

All their phones chimed at the same time in the middle of a not poker game, 6,000 feet above Spain. 

“Walker hit the panic button,” Natasha stated, and Barnes looked at Steve in alarm. 

“Do I turn around?” Tony asked, and Barnes thought of something that made his stomach flip.

“This mission is a distraction,” he said.

Tony pulled a 180 and they raced back to the Tower, doubling their speed from the flight out. “Friday, what’s the situation?” Tony asked, but was met with silence. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Friday said. “I can’t seem to connect.”

“Fuck!” spat Barnes and tried Walker’s cell phone. It didn’t even ring. “Someone’s blocking all signals from the Tower,” he said.

“Fuck,” Wanda repeated, concern etched into her features. 

They sat in tense silence while crossing the ocean once more, gripping their weapons, game forgotten. The Tower looked normal from the outside when they landed, but when they stepped into the building, they received a chilling report from Friday. 

“The Hydra device from the vault has been taken.” 

“Where is Walker?” Barnes asked as the team ran inside the building. Friday didn’t respond. “Friday,  _ where is Walker _ ?” Barnes demanded. Her answer hamstrung him.

“Walker’s body is outside the vault.”

Barnes’ knees hit the floor hard as everyone screeched to a halt. “ _ His…what?”  _ He whispered.

“Walker fought with courage and skill, but he was vastly outnumbered,” Friday told them, tone mournful. “His injuries were extensive and proved fatal.”

“When did he….?” Barnes asked, voice small, unable to complete the sentence. 

“As the jet landed,” Friday reported.

“Get a medical team to the vault floor, now!” Sam ordered. Barnes stared at him, numb as Sam jogged over the haul Barnes to his feet. “We might be able to revive him.” 

They sprinted to the stairwell, the supersoldiers reaching the floor before the rest. The door was propped open with a pile of bodies, and more were strewn about the lobby. Barnes found Walker laying in the center of the room, curled in a half moon in a large pool of blood, face peaceful. Barnes had heard descriptions of heartbreak, of shattering and tearing asunder, but this sensation was the aftermath of a nuclear war: total devastation. Barnes barely made it to Walker before collapsing. He reached out and brushed his fingers over the back of Walker’s bloodstained hand, a noise clawing out of his throat that made the team shiver. 

He made himself examine the damage, witnessing how Walker had suffered. Two bullets had ripped the front of his vest open, and complementary exit wounds marred his back. A gash in his thigh was another tributary to the lake. Barnes ripped off Walker’s vest and shirt and was suddenly glad he didn’t eat breakfast as Tony gagged at the sight. They must’ve been a large caliber, because even the entry points were gaping holes. He packed them as best he could with Steve’s help, while Natasha and Clint patched his back. Barnes gingerly performed CPR, trying to avoid causing more damage but knowing it probably didn’t matter. Walker had died for them, and he had died alone and in pain. 

“Friday,” said Steve. “Tell the medical unit we’ve got two gunshot wounds to the chest, through to the back, and a slice to the thigh.”

Barnes alternated between chest compressions and rescue breathing, keeping a steady rhythm that didn’t match the agonizing tempo of his heart.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he begged. “Don’t leave me like this.” That got a sob out of Wanda, who covered her mouth with a shaky hand.

The medical team burst out the elevator and swarmed Barnes, gesturing him out of the way so they could apply the defibrillator. Barnes was powerless under his own weight, so Steve dragged him onto his feet and over to the side, where he gently sat him back down on the floor. Steve sat down next to him and turned slightly to wrap both arms around him. Barnes leaned into the embrace, making choking sounds as tears began streaming down his cheeks. They watched the medical team try and coax Walker’s heart to beat, for him to start breathing and sit up and tell Barnes everything was going to be okay. 

_ Clear _ . Nothing.

_ Clear _ . Nothing.

_ Clear _ . Nothing.

_ Clear _ .

“Pulse!” one of the medics exclaimed, and Barnes’ inhale was a strangled gasp. They lifted Walker onto the gurney, one medic on top doing chest compressions. They rushed back into the elevator and descended to the medical wing. 

Barnes found the ability to move his legs and stood, helping Steve up, who wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. 

“Come on,” Steve said, leading them to the stairs. Barnes’ brain had entered a fugue state and he followed Steve without a single thought in his head, on autopilot as the only alternative to a catastrophic failure. Barnes stood in the hallway as Steve negotiated with a nurse to get them access to the viewing room for the operating theatre, trembling slightly. Once given permission, they entered the room with the two-way glass and watched as the nurses pumped bag after bag of blood back into Walker’s body while the surgeons hurried to stop it gushing back out. They watched those surgeons dig and clamp and stitch, watched the scalpels flash in the fluorescent lights, watched Walker’s heart stop again and again. Barnes took to staring at that line on the machine, praying for every peak. 

They stood for hours that felt like seconds and seconds that felt like hours. Every fiber of his being wanted to go into that room, curl up under the operating table, and weep. By the time the surgeons had done everything they could, Barnes was so wrung out he felt like he was outside of his own body, floating just an inch to the left, with minimal sensation in any part of him. He met the surgeon outside the door after she had scrubbed off, to get the prognosis.

“Fifty-fifty he survives the night,” she said, tone blunt but sympathetic. “We’re going to do everything we can to make it the right fifty.”

Barnes was incapable of speech, so Steve responded for him, words of appreciation and gratitude that fell deaf on Barnes ears. A coin flip could take his love from him. Suddenly the world swayed, and Steve grabbed him, manhandling him to the room they were directed to and dumping him on the couch by the bed in which Walker would be laid. Barnes stared at it unblinking until exhaustion bludgeoned him to sleep. 


	28. Except When It Is

Walker didn’t wake up the next day, or the days after that. He didn’t open his eyes until the seventh day, his sight blurry and throat parched. Blinking to clear his vision, he turned his head, neck stiff, to see Barnes on a couch, reading the novel he himself had been working on before…. _ what? _

“What happened?” he asked, though those words didn’t come out as planned. The resulting sound was more of a shapeless rasp, but Barnes’ head whipped up and his eyes locked with Walker. Walker tried to smile, and was sure it was ghastly, but Barnes’ face split into the most beautiful grin Walker had ever seen in his life. 

“Sweetheart?” Barnes asked, dropping the book and rushing to his side. Walker lifted a heavy hand to weakly squeeze his eager fingers. 

“Hey.”

Barnes appeared on the verge of tears, holding Walker’s right hand to his cheek and swaying slightly. Walker just looked at him, looked at the man he never thought he’d see again. Objectively, Barnes was thin, with dark circles under his eyes and a paleness to his skin from more than his lack of sun. He was a gorgeous sight to Walker, though, who basked in the laser focus of those blue eyes.

“What happened?” he asked, clearer this time, and Barnes’ tears spilled over.

“You died,” he whispered, unable to say it any louder for fear of calling the Reaper back. The tears flowed freely, and Walker released Barnes’ hand so he could wipe them away. 

“It didn’t stick,” he said, cupping Barnes’ face in his palm. “I came back. I’m okay,” he assured him, stroking his thumb across his cheekbone. Barnes leaned into the touch, desperate for that contact. 

“Holy shit!” he heard from the doorway and turned to see Steve holding two sandwiches.

“Is one of those for me?” Walker asked, jokingly, and Steve actually looked guilty for a second before laughing in delight.

“Welcome back, Boss!” he said, placing both meals on a table and striding over to grip Walker’s leg.

“Thanks,” Walker said, and Barnes made a strangled noise, burying his face in Walker’s shoulder. 

“He’s been a wreck,” Steve said candidly, moving to pat Barnes on the back, who flipped him off for the effort. Steve chuckled.

“It’s good to know…” Walker started saying, then got caught in a coughing fit. Steve tossed Barnes a nearby water bottle, who held it to Walker’s lips and encouraged him to drink. The liquid soothed the desert in his mouth and throat, allowing him to finish. “…that my active presence was missed.”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve said. “We’ve kept to your schedule because it's a habit now, but it’s been like going for walks after owning a dog for years, but the dog is…” Barnes glared daggers. “…not there anymore.”

“Good to know I’m your bitch,” Walker teased, earning a laugh from both of them. He yawned, eyes blinking rapidly after to maintain his focus. But it was becoming harder, and he yawned again.

“Get some sleep, love,” Barnes murmured, and Steve squeezed his leg encouragingly. So he did just that.

*******

_ He’s okay. _

That thought brought life to Barnes’ body, pushing blood to his extremities, and coaxing his heart to start beating again. For a whole week, he had been all but clinically dead, eating little and sleeping less, breath shallow in anxiety and pulse rapid under stress. He had spent countless hours just staring at Walker’s motionless form, so still and quiet in the hospital bed. He had memorized the pull of the IV against Walker’s left hand, the indents the heart monitor made in his index finger. Barnes knew every scar, freckle, blemish, and pore on the visible portions of Walker’s body. He could probably hum the rhythm of his resting heart rate at this point. 

He was so used to being Walker’s observer that he almost didn’t believe his own eyes when he saw Walker open his. He had been praying so hard for that to happen that witnessing it occurring made him question it, so he had kept a minor focus on the book in case it was all a hallucination. But Walker had turned and spoken to him, had woken up.  _ He’s alive, _ was the thought throbbing in his mind, repeated by a joyous chorus. He never wanted to hear another pair of words again. His Walker was alive, and talking to him, and that was all that would ever matter.

Barnes was perfectly content to watch him after that, after Steve had shared lunch with him and left, after the others had come and gone. Barnes sat and stared at Walker, at the scars and freckles, and rejoiced at the failure of Hydra to take Walker from him.

_ We won,  _ he thought in triumph. Consequences be damned.


	29. Recovery

He healed slowly.

It felt like forever before he could even stand without feeling dizzy, let alone walk across a room without getting winded. The bullets had done severe damage to one of his lungs and sent fragments into his right atria, so anything requiring oxygen and a pulse was difficult for a time. The team was always there to help with anything he needed, and to keep him company, which he was immensely grateful for. Recovery feels even longer when you’re staring at the ceiling.

The first time he was able to do a flight of stairs, Tony threw a pizza party and they all piled into the common room to eat and debate who would win in a fight: Walker or Fury.

“Definitely Fury,” Walker said, to loud disagreement from Steve and Barnes.

“He’s very sneaky,” Clint agreed. Natasha nodded, mouth full, but responding anyway, “He’s too unpredictable.”

“But Walker’s hand to hand is beyond excellent,” Barnes argued, and Clint shook his head.

“Hand to hand loses to a gun, any day,” he said, then winced hard. “Sorry, Boss.”

Walker waved his free hand. “I’m no sensitive flower.” Clint nodded, glancing sideways at Barnes’ scowl. He shuffled a few feet further away just to be safe. “Besides,” Walker continued, “I agree. Fury would kick my ass before I even realized we were fighting.” 

The pizza was soon demolished, crusts passed between those who did and did not eat them. Walker made a move towards the couch and Barnes gripped him under the legs and stood, carrying him over.

“I can walk, babe,” Walker said drily, knowing full well that Barnes didn’t care. He was set gently on the middle cushions until Barnes could take his traditional corner and haul Walker into his lap, snuggling his face in the dark strands. 

“Adorable,” Tony said, at the same time Steve said, “Ew.”

“You’re jealous,” Barnes retorted, then paused, raised his head, and narrowed his eyes. Both Tony and Steve lifted their hands in surrender.

“Not my jam,” Tony said, adding “kinda” in response to Barnes’ arched brow, then “maybe, but I’m taken.” 

“I’m taken too,” Steve pointed out, and Sam gave him a sappy smile. No one had the heart to pick on them, though. They were sunshine together, and you can’t mock something that warms you to your toes. Walker laced his fingers through Barnes’ with a quiet chuckle, leaning into his chest and turning his head.

“If Steve is Sam’s sun, then you’re my shadow,” he said, and Barnes kissed his neck. 

“I am the smoke from your flames,” he countered, and Walker smiled. 

“Too hot to handle?” he asked, innocently, and Barnes slid both his hands to grip Walker’s ass. 

“I’ll handle it just fine,” Barnes growled into his ear, and Natasha threw a pillow at him.

“We’re right here, you know,” she scolded, and Clint nodded vigorously, decidedly not looking in their direction.

“I’m sorry, are we offending your sensibilities?” Barnes asked sweetly, grip still tight. 

“Keep it PG-13, asshole,” Natasha responded, only realizing too late when Barnes flipped Walker onto his back and covered his body with his own. Barnes dipped his head and captured Walker’s mouth in a heated kiss, to the cackles and groans of the others. 

“What?” Barnes said, raising his head, left hand gripping Walker’s hip. “It’s PG-13.”

“Emphasis on ‘asshole’,” Natasha said, then held up a warning finger as Barnes’ eyes brightened. 

The night did not get any classier from there, and ended with everyone stripping down to their underwear, playing a new version of not poker. Walker had dreaded the moment he lost his shirt, hesitant to pull it off. Not even Barnes had seen the scars, and the collective gasp proved their severity. 

“Jesus, Boss,” Clint said, wincing. Natasha pursed her lip and gave him a sad look.

“Too close,” she said, and Walker shrugged.

“I survived,” he said simply, feeling Barnes’ horrified eyes on his back. 

“I…didn’t realize bullet wounds could be that huge,” Tony said, a shade paler than usual. 

“High caliber rounds,” Barnes whispered, and Steve put a hand on his leg. Barnes looked at Steve. “Meant to kill us.” Steve nodded grimly; bare shoulders visibly tense. 

“He’s still here,” Wanda reassured, soft voice breaking Barnes’ dark trance.

Walker smiled. “Trust me, I’ll walk through any kind of fire to make sure I get back to tell you all what to do.”

“Boss lives up to his name,” Tony said, and Walker grinned at him. 

“Damn right.”

Barnes muttered something about him being “foolish” and “only human” but left it alone afterwards. They returned to the game, Barnes losing first – a rare occasion. They played until the third yawn before packing it away, helping each other to their feet and calling it a night.

Barnes moved to pick Walker up, but he gestured for space instead. He slowly pushed himself to his feet and paused in case of a head rush, then straightened completely. They walked towards the elevator, Barnes’ hand on his lower back, when he veered towards the staircase. 

“No,” Barnes said, turning him again, but Walker insisted.

“It’s only 3 floors,” he pointed out, to Barnes’ displeasure. “How am I supposed to get stronger if I do nothing to build up my strength?”

Barnes hesitated, then begrudgingly allowed them to return to their stairwell trajectory, holding the door open like a gentleman and eyes scanning him for any potential sign of collapse. Walker was fine for the first set of stairs, then began lagging at the second. Reaching the top, he had to stop and breathe, chest tight and aching. 

“I’m fine,” he repeated several times as Barnes tried to examine him, get him to sit, and bodily lift him. “Just give me a minute.”

A minute was given, then another taken, before Walker started moving again, deliberately slow this time. He made it to the top with only a little assistance and was exhausted by the time Barnes led them into the apartment. He removed his boots, and swayed, allowing Barnes to scoop him up and carry him to the bedroom. Placing him on the bed, Barnes removed his pants, shirt, and socks, handing him a pair of clean boxers and heading into the bathroom to wash up himself. Walker swapped his underwear and made the shot to the basket of dirty clothes. Laying back on the pillow, he closed his eyes as he waited for Barnes to finish. By the time Barnes exited the bathroom, Walker was snoring softly, eyes closed and face slack. Barnes slipped under the covers in the least disruptive way he could manage, then reached out and pulled Walker to him, rolling him on his side so he wouldn’t put pressure on the scars. They were healed now, as much as possible, but Barnes knew they still hurt, as did his lungs and heart. So, it was up to Barnes to make sure that Walker slept on his side, that he didn’t overexert himself, that he ate well and avoided stress. It was no small task, but he welcomed the responsibility. What else was he going to do? Let his stubborn man fall down the stairs because he didn’t want to take the elevator? No, he would tend to Walker as long as he needed it, whether he wanted the care or not. 

Walker sighed in his sleep and nuzzled his face in Barnes’ arm, sparking a burst of light in Barnes’ chest. He wrapped his other arm more snugly around Walker’s abdomen and kissed the base of his braid. With the soft sound of breathing and a warm pulse against his, Barnes soon succumbed to sleep as well. 


	30. Eureka II

The sun had barely risen to meet the sky, kissing the very edge of Walker’s reality. He awoke to smooth skin, warm feet, and a broad sense of contentment. He kept his eyes closed to maintain the feeling, afraid to shatter the beauty with witness. Barnes’ heart set a powerful rhythm against his back, one that kept his own heart beating. One second behind. 

Walker laid there for an hour, just breathing while wrapped in Barnes’ sleeping form. He could think of nothing he could possibly want to do more. Finally, he opened his eyes to see the sun-soaked arm stretched under his head and across the bed. Walker gazed out the window, at glass and steel and the miracle of another morning, alive and in the safe embrace of a man who himself was a miracle. Carved from ice, this man was not supposed to be here, should have died decades ago in a wintry grave, but survived despite his path being littered with traps and ambushes. Survived to this day, to hold Walker like he was worth something, to sleep soundly in the presence of another man. In warm and dark depths, these feelings burst forth, and Walker would admit to no one but Barnes that those ocean-deep emotions of trust and love could even inhabit his body. 

“Morning, love,” Barnes murmured in his ear, sending a flash of adoration through him. 

“Morning, babe,” he replied, rolling carefully to come face to face with Barnes, who gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. Even partially closed, the blue of his eyes caught the morning rays and returned a vibrant shade of azure. Walker stared, entranced, and Barnes reached a finger to trace the curve of his cheek. Fingers on his chin, Barnes lifted a thumb to trace his bottom lip. Tilting his head, Barnes gently pressed his mouth to Walker’s, savoring the sweet give of his lips and the quiet sound he made. They kissed, thorough but gentle, until Barnes’ stomach growled. Walker’s lips curving against Barnes’ smile, they wordlessly agreed it was time for breakfast.

Rolling out of the bed, Walker didn’t bother pulling on any more clothing than he wore, planning to cook in their own kitchen. French toast was voted the optimal meal, and he set about cracking eggs and mixing spices. Barnes sat at the bar, watching him with a soft expression. He groaned at the first bite, still hot, and Walker laughed.

“Just French toast,” he said, and Barnes shook his head.

“Just  _ your _ French toast,” he corrected, and Walker hid his pleased grin. 

Their day was unscheduled, and they were open to the assorted possibilities that came with that.

“Movie?”

“Coffee shop?”

“Walk in the park?”

“Sex?”

Since it was only 7 am, they decided on all of the above. 

*******

Walker lay sprawled on the bed, panting for air as Barnes curled up beside him, content to watch his face. Barnes didn’t ask if it was good anymore, he just got a good look at his face and smirked for the rest of the day. Walker didn’t mind. It was more than good.

Satisfied for now, they showered and dressed for existing in public, each picking the other’s outfit. They left the Tower after briefly notifying the team of their adventures, heading towards their favorite café. It was several blocks away, but they preferred walking to the subway, navigating the crowd hand in hand. Barnes' arm was hidden in long sleeves, appropriate for the growing Fall chill, so they received no second, or even first, glances. The only recognition they received was from the barista when they pushed open the door, tinkling the bell and alerting her to two of her favorite customers.

“Morning, boys!” she chirped, brushing her hands on her apron. “What can I getcha?”

“The regular,” Walker said, and she directed the other barista to start on one black iced coffee and a hot caramel macchiato. Walker handed the latter to Barnes when they were ready, enjoying a sip of his bare bones drink. 

“I still don’t get it,” Barnes said as they found a two-person table in the corner. “It just tastes like sadness.”

Walker held his coffee in both hands, as if to shield it from insult. 

“I like it this way,” he grumbled good naturedly. “It’s got a good flavor.”

“Yeah, the flavor of a Russian winter: cold and bitter.” 

“Maybe I am cold and bitter,” Walker proposed, to Barnes’ amusement. 

“You are one of the warmest optimists I’ve ever met,” he said, eyes holding his. Walker almost blushed. He waved his hand to dispel the complement.

“I am thinking of a new training routine,” Walker said, Barnes gracefully allowing the change of subject. He outlined the plan, with different pairings and a more diverse set of challenges. It would take some work with Tony to get the proper equipment and a bit of tweaking with their space, but Walker was sure it would help develop and diversify their skills even further. He was detailing the combat portion of the program when the air went still, raising every hair on his body. He looked at Barnes, whose eyes widened in return. 

Coffees forgotten, then launched to their feet and rushed to the entrance, bursting onto the street to see what was wrong. But the crowd was the same, rushing here and there, no screams or shouts of alarm to indicate anything amiss. Walker looked at his arm, hairs standing on end, and surveyed the area more closely. Shops with wares in the window, office buildings, people walking briskly, endless cars, and a thin stream of light shooting straight up from Central Park, so thin that Walker missed it on the first scan. Staring, he knew it was the source of the strange energy, and when he turned to Barnes, he saw him glaring in the same direction.

“Sorry,” Walker said, then started towards the beam, pulling his cell out of his pocket, and calling the Tower. “Miss Friday,” he started, “please notify the team of a potential threat in Central Park. Full gear but be subtle. Barnes and I are on our way to check it out.”

“Yes, Boss.”

They dodged taxis, stall owners, and children, moving at a brisk jog. They made it to the park as Steve rolled up, Natasha holding on behind him.

“What about Sam?” Walker asked, and Steve pointed upwards. 

“I can’t fly,” Natasha elaborated, dismounting and checking the safeties on her guns. Steve parked legally, for once, and even paid for a full hour. 

“That’s ambitious,” Barnes said, eyeing the timer. Steve shrugged.

“That’s as much as I’m willing to pay.”

“Rebel,” Walker said drily. Steve flashed Tony’s trademark peace sign at him. 

Tony landed with Clint in tow, and Sam held Wanda, both placed on the ground with varying amounts of delicacy. 

“How was the date?” Wanda asked as they started to move as a group towards the beam of light. 

“Interrupted,” Walker bemoaned, and Barnes patted him on the back.

“Better luck next time.” Clint snorted at that.

“As if we get to have a happy, normal, fun time,” he said. He gestured ahead of them. “You two can’t even get a cup of coffee without whatever the fuck this is ruining it.” They walked deeper into the park, until the people started thinning out. They broke into a clearing, and found the source of their hair-raising problem, as well as answered the question of where Hydra had taken the portal device. Apparently, for a walk in the park. The leash was held by at least 20 Hydra goons, each positioned to cover the maximum amount of ground, while still trying to maintain a semblance of inconspicuousness. That wasn’t working too well, but the heavy weaponry sure would, so the Avengers took cover in a copse of trees to discuss strategies. 

They agreed upon a full-frontal assault, guns blazing, to overwhelm and crush before backup could be called. Walker checked the clip on the rifle Sam had brought him, and Barnes aggressively adjusted Walker’s body armor, lips moving in silent prayer. Walker stopped his tugging with a firm hand, grasping his fingers with his own and squeezing.

“I’ll be careful,” Walker promised, and Barnes accepted that begrudgingly. 

Assembled and strategized, they prepared their weapons and burst into the clearing, eliminating Hydra operatives left and right. Walker stayed towards the back, picking off those who threatened his people. He kept an eye on the man in the white lab coat who was rushing around the other side of the machine, hitting buttons and muttering to himself. He kept glancing up nervously at Walker and the Avengers, but Walker couldn’t get a good shot on him until he got a prime opportunity and took it, putting a bullet through the scientist’s neck. But it was too late. Whatever the man had just done activated the portal, and the thin beam of blue light turned into a hole the size of a tank hovering right above the ground. 

The first man who stepped out of the portal was wearing black military gear from head to toe, wielding a rifle and standard equipment. But the rifle was off, both more and less advanced than the ones Walker was used to seeing. As if common issue rifles had evolved along a different…

“Timeline,” Walker said aloud, raising his rifle to aim at the man. He saw the red armband, saw the helmet with the swastika, the boots. “They opened a hole to another reality.” 

“Wait, what?” Tony squawked, but there was no time. Walker shot the man as the next stepped through, shooting him as well. Then, there was a flood, men pouring out of the gap in reality.  _ Nazis _ running into Central Park and engaging in fierce battle with the Avengers. The Avengers had to fall back, even given their superior air support. Numbers meant a lot, and these soldiers were well armed and well trained. Walker and Barnes took cover behind a pair of trees, alternating their firing and reloading patterns. Steve and Natasha engaged hand to hand where they could, and Sam and Tony rained death from above. Wanda blocked bullets, threw men aside like dolls, pulled up earth to disrupt their advance, and sent a pulse of energy to incinerate the vehicle they attempted to drive through the portal.

It wasn’t enough. What they needed was their own army to combat this onslaught, enough guns to counter these. They needed help, or they needed the portal closed. 

Walker had an idea.

“Wanda!” he yelled, “Throw them all back into their side for a moment! I’m going to try and destroy the portal.”

“We!” Barnes shouted, “We will destroy it.” Walker flailed his hands. 

“Ready?” Wanda called in return, and Walker slung his rifle over his shoulder. “GO!” she cried, launching the men through the portal. Walker sprinted to the device, eyeing the crystal as a surefire way of stopping it, but knowing it would probably kill him in the process, with as much energy as it was channeling at the moment. Barnes guarded his back, taking down the first few Nazis that ventured back into their world. But time was running out, and Walker noticed a power line wired to a switch and made the decision. He pulled until it severed the connection. The portal closed with a sucking noise and a flash of light as Walker’s world went dark.


	31. The New Order

His eyes opened and he gagged, coughing up water as waves lapped at his feet. He was laying on a shoreline, somewhere, and Barnes was beside him, still unconscious. The sand grit in his hair and the smell of marine salt crystallized in his nose. Barnes coughed before long, emitting all the fluids from his lungs and swearing into the night. Barnes then paused, realizing it was night, and looked at Walker before asking the multi-billion-dollar question:

“Where the fuck are we?”


End file.
